


Food For Thought

by DarkmoonSigel, sku7314977



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: ....kinda, Anal Sex, Biting, Blow Jobs, Cooking, Cooking Lessons, Domestic, Domestic Fluff, Fingering, Flirting, Flower Language, Fluff and Angst, Food, Food Kink, GET IN THE VAN LOSER, Hannibal is a sexy cannibal, Kinda, M/M, Penetration, Porn, Rating increase cause we wrote smut, Riding, Sexy Times, WE WROTE THE SEX, WE'RE WRITING PORN, Will is a cutie who knows shit about cooking, enjoy the smut, kitchen smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-27
Updated: 2014-03-24
Packaged: 2018-01-14 00:12:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 28,559
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1245505
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarkmoonSigel/pseuds/DarkmoonSigel, https://archiveofourown.org/users/sku7314977/pseuds/sku7314977
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Hannibal discovers that Will hasn't been eating, he takes it upon himself to fix the profiler's eating habits by bringing him home for a number of intimate cooking lessons.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. First Course

**Author's Note:**

> SKU here, I got the idea for this story and decided that it had to be written! But to be honest I know shit about food and (as I have learned while writing this) even less about wine. 
> 
> All credit for food and wine knowledge is owed to DarkmoonSigle who was a doll during the entire writing process and patient with me as I mistook Port for wine and tried to cook a $400 bottle of something into a sauce that would have made Hannibal cry.
> 
> She can also be credited with collaboration, beta reading and a good deal of the writing which is mixed all throughout mine.
> 
> We hope you all enjoy the first course.
> 
> We do not own Hannibal, though we wouldn't mind bringing him home~<3

It was the way that light hit Will's skin.

That was how it was brought to Hannibal's attention. The pallor of its fevered surface wan, the color spread out far too thin. It made Will look as though he were fading.

"Have you been eating, Will?" Hannibal asked from his seat across from the empath. The question caught Will’s attention as strange, not that talk of food while in Hannibal’s company was as oddity so much as the direct question regard Will’s consumption of it.

“Uh, yeah,” The answer came out broken, Will rubbing his face with tired hands. Hannibal watched Will’s slow movements, sluggish at best as he squeezed the bridge of his nose and tried to blink away some of the lethargy still clinging to him. Will was more distracted than usual, and Hannibal had an inclination to why.

“That is,” Will began to correct himself now that he gave it some actual thought. “When I remember. Jack’s had me wrapped so tight around the Ripper I haven’t been doing a whole lot of anything lately. Eating included.”

“You cannot think about the Chesapeake Ripper all the time Will,” Hannibal said, studying how the empath shielded his declining health with the layers of flannel and cheap cotton like the armor of a knight. The stratum of material kept the signs of malnourishment hidden from prying view, not that anyone other than himself really looked at Will for long. The empath dressed to blend, often dismissed.

Hannibal knew Will’s ribs would be showing more than what was desirable or deemed healthy by any medical professional including himself, but much as he would like, Will couldn’t hide the sickness crawling beneath his skin.

“Your body and mind need to rest. Good food and sleep are the only remedies for that.” Hannibal suggested without really doing so. There was a command buried cunningly beneath that kind tone of voice, one that Will’s unique skill set would pick up, even if it was only subconsciously.

Tired yet restless, Will dragged himself from his seat, wandering over to the bookshelves on the bottom level to scan texts ranging from physical and mental health to the great works of Leonardo Da Vinci. He knew he was avoiding the topic of conversation by trying to physically remove himself from it.

“We both know how well I sleep Hannibal.” Will told some of the older spines staring back at him. Old anger coiled in his gut, directed at himself. It felt like his body was betraying him along with his mind. He had never felt so outnumbered before “Even when I sleep I’m not ‘resting’, my body takes me out for walks and my mind wakes me up screaming.”

“You would sleep much better if you found a way to relax after work and kept a regular meal schedule.” Hannibal interjected before Will fell into making tangents, the good doctor taking advantage of the opportunity presented to him. Hannibal openly examined Will’s back, the way his loose shirts pooled about a too lean waist before being tucked into pants a size too large for him now. He memorized to sketch later the small gathering of fabric at the back of saggy cargo pants that demonstrated exactly how much weight Will had unintentionally lost. There was a beautiful figure hidden beneath all those layers, one of sharp contours and lithe limbs. Hannibal wanted to free it, mold it into something better.

“You say that, but try to make Jack realize it. I don’t think I’ve slept more than eight hours all week.” Will sighed. Whether it was the Ripper or the latest psychopath of the week to darken the bureau’s doorway, Jack wouldn’t let Will rest.

“Will, if you do not begin taking care of yourself, your health will begin to diminish and then what use will you be to Jack?” Hannibal said in patient tones he had groomed to deal with difficult people in his care.

“Or me.” He thought in silent addition, watching as Will paid closer attention to his library than his word. Tired of the space Will was trying to create between them, Hannibal rose from his seat, keeping his footstep light yet audible enough as to not startle the skittish man.

“Tell me how often you remember to eat.” Hannibal said, directing his inquiry to the back of Will’s head, the empath still refusing to look over at him or engage him properly in conversation.

“Recently?“ Will questioned the volumes as if the answers to his life lay within their pages. He was careful to keep his back to Hannibal, though it made the finer hairs of his body stand on end, like he wasn’t safe from something. Will chocked it up to general paranoia, one of the perks of his profession.

Hannibal could already see where this was going, “In the past three days, you have slept for eight hours but what have you eaten?” he asked.

Silence filled the gap between them telling Hannibal more about his patient’s food consumption then words alone. Guilt always spoke loudest with Will, seen as clearly upon his body as the ill fit of his clothing. Will was only eating when he remembered. Compounded with the fact that he was a walking ball of anxious fear and stress, it did not leave much room for a generous appetite.

“Allow me to ask another question, have you eaten today?” Hannibal inquired though he already knew the answer to that particular question. More silence filled the gap between them as Will deflected by fingering a book from the shelf, opening the heavy medical text to a page depicting the Wound Man

“I haven’t been hungry.” Will muttered, trying to cover up his embarrassment and sense of helplessness by focusing upon the incisions covering the man depicted instead of Hannibal‘s words.

Taking the heavy tome from his patient and sliding it back to its proper place of rest, Hannibal turned Will toward his desk with the gentle guidance of a hand on his lower back.

“I’m afraid that will not do, Will. You suffer a great deal of stress which will in turn affect your appetite. You must force yourself to eat, especially if you are not sleeping well.” Hannibal ordered, giving a gentle but demanding push to sit the empath down at his desk. He watched with interest as Will shifted with discomfort at the new seating arrangement.

Leaving him there for a moment, Hannibal opened a small fridge in the back of his office, the space usually reserved for wine. He soon returned with a number of small containers to be arranged on the desk in front of Will.

“Hannibal, you don’t have to feed me.” Will protested, watching as the lids of Tupperware that looked more expensive than half his dishes were popped open to produce an assortment of dried fruit, cheese, and a paste he could only assume was pâté with slices of bread. A firm hand on his shoulder stopped Will from escaping out of his seat and an impromptu lunch to his therapist.

“You are my patient. I am your doctor. You are malnourished and I have brought extra with me today.” Hannibal’s familiar accented voice came by his ear, smooth and soothing in a manner that persuaded Will to remain seated.

“People don’t pack extra for lunch, Hannibal,” Will tried to challenge but the psychiatrist was already spreading a thin layer of seasoned ground meat across bread and lifting it to his lips, dismissing the comment entirely.

“For lunch, we are having pâté de foie gras on a baguette accompanied by rosemary infused goat cheese, dried bing cherries, and figs that have been roasted with a dash of balsamic, orange zest, and black pepper.” Hannibal explained to the empath with his usual amount of food zeal, letting the crust touch chapped lips. Though he knew Will was capable of eating almost anything thanks to his poor upbringing, he understood that it was that same upbringing that would leave the man close minded about new foods.

“Fatty goose liver,” Hannibal clarified, noting the suspicious look that lingered on the spread as Will tentatively opened his mouth to accept a taste of the offering.

“It’s good,” Will admitted with a note of surprise, taking the chewy bread for himself to have another bite. Pleased to have his fragile patient eating on his own, Hannibal disappeared again to soon return with two glasses and a bottle of tawny port. Will’s body would appreciate the sugar, if not the alcohol content. It might also ease Will into eating more.

Leaning against his desk, Hannibal watched as his patient consumed his lunch, sipping his glass and savoring the lightly nutty sweetness as it ran thickly over his tongue.

“Will, I must confess that I am finding myself fearing for your mental and physical stability at this time. Jack has been pushing you too hard these past few weeks and it is beginning to show. I need you to find a hobby you can lose yourself to in the evenings, something that will help you unwind and step away from your thoughts of the Ripper.” Hannibal suggested. He knew asking Will to take some time off on stress leave was a futile effort. It would only have Crawford relentlessly coming to the empath’s house requesting his assistance.

Accepting the offered glass of fortified wine, Will laughed, the sound of it humorless and dry. To Hannibal’s dismay, he noticed Will ceasing to eat, his interest in food dropping off with a sudden loss of appetite. Will ignored the lunch to turn his attention to the unsavory conversation at hand.

“You don’t think I’ve tried?” Will grinned but the expression was painfully faked, the smile sitting on as his face as empty and brittle as the laugh before it.

“I’ve worked on my lures, boat motors, played with my dogs,” he said, counting off his hobbies on too few fingers. “The only thing I can’t do is go fishing. I need a weekend to do that.”

Shrugging, Will remembered the snifter of port in hand, taking a too large swallow of it that made Hannibal grimace and silently promise to one day teach the back water Louisiana man what proper etiquette and appreciation was. In a roundabout way though, the thought gave him an idea.

“Then perhaps what you need is something new.” Hannibal smiled, satisfied with a plan blossomed and took root in his head. To cover his delight, Hannibal gathered up some fig and cheese to press the combination to still reluctant lips, coaxing the flesh to part. Though adverse at first Will seemed to open up to the idea of new foods once they’d touched his pallet, inspiring his tongue to cooperate .

“Like what?” Will asked ruefully midchew, lifting his wine glass to take another unappreciative swallow, chasing down the pleasant taste of the fig and cheese. “If you’re going to tell me to take up drinking I’m already way ahead of you.”

Will lifted the glass for emphasis, though Hannibal knew it wasn’t wine he was storing in his cupboards and beside his work desk. He’d been to the man’s house too many times before, with and without his knowledge. As pleasant a segway as it was to address the man’s alcoholism, Hannibal deemed it pertinent to leave the issue alone for now.

“I was thinking you could cook with me.” Hannibal said, snagging a fig for himself. He decided that if he wished to taste any fruit, it would be now or never since the empath had deemed he liked the pairing of cheese and fruit the best, and was intent on devouring it all. It was a shame really. The jogger who had decided to litter in a park Hannibal liked to stroll from time to time had turned out so well as pâté.

“Cooking lessons? Is this your way of keeping an eye on me, Dr. Lecter?” Will voiced the notion that made his brow crease as he gave the dehydrated fruit a scrutinizing look. Hannibal smiled, topping off both their glasses.

“Perhaps it is my way of making sure that you are both relaxed as well as fed in the evenings.” Hannibal conceded. “You will find that you will sleep much better on a full stomach and with far less nightmares when your mind is at ease.”

“I am not a skilled cook, Hannibal. If you let me in your kitchen you’re going to be left very disappointed.” Will laughed, the sound of it light and almost natural as he brought the new drink to lips. He found the port was beginning to have an effect on him. A light hand touched the stem of Will’s glass, a silent instruction to lower the crystal, suggesting a sip instead of a swallow.

“I think you will find a few intimate sessions in my kitchen will remedy that nicely.” Hannibal said, pleased to see his light handed training already taking root as Will lifted his wine glass again and this time, sipped.

_-_-_

“My name is Will Graham. I am on Hannibal’s doorstep in Baltimore, Maryland. It is 8:37pm, and I am about to have a cooking lesson.” Will told himself as he dry swallowed, feeling his throat click. He stared at Hannibal’s impressive front door, but made no move to alert its owner to his presence. He’d visited Hannibal at his home a number of times before in the past, though never for a therapy session.

Admittedly, none of their interactions felt like or were deemed therapy really. This latest development in their relationship left him feeling nervous though, more so than usual, like two friends meeting up for a first date. The label on the bottle of wine he had thought to bring was not helping him in this matter either. It felt too heavy in his hands, its weight only stirring up the nest of butterflies in his chest, the insects of his emotions fluttering about with new zeal.

Reprimanding himself for his foolishness, Will took the heavy knocker in hand and tapped it twice. He didn’t have to wait long. Within a minute or so, a pleased looking Hannibal appeared to open the door, dressed in an apron with his dress shirt sleeves neatly rolled up his forearms.

“Will, please come in.” Hannibal smiled. One for punctuality, he had been beginning to worry about his angst-ridden prone patient.

“I know I’m a few minutes late.” Will mumbled an almost apology in Hannibal‘s general direction, handing the doctor the brown paper as he shrugged off his coat. He involved himself in the intricacies of hanging the garment up as Hannibal examined his gift without opening it just yet. As much as he liked to get gifts for other people, as rare an opportunity as that was, Will never wanted to see their reaction to the gift. He knew he would read too much into it, and feel their elation, indifference, or disappointment firsthand.

“I wasn’t sure what the right social procedure was for something like this.” Will found himself muttering to the array of hardwood, tile, and expensive carpets that made up Hannibal’s flooring as he was lead to the kitchen.

Observing the profiler’s unease but choosing not to comment on it, Hannibal pulled a bottle of red free from its drab paper covering to reveal a sipping Zinfandel with a rather flirtatious label on the bottle.

Lust.

Hannibal arched a brow at it, wondering how far he should read into it or if the wine selection had even been Will’s decision to begin with.

“There is no customary etiquette for you to follow when a friend is helping another friend relax with a private invitation to dinner, though I do appreciate the gift. Thank you, Will.” Hannibal smiled softly at Will, careful to keep his amusement out of the expression. Popping the bottle open with a wine key and practiced ease, Hannibal poured two glasses of the mellow wine. In amusement, he watched as Will, who was clearly unsure what to do with himself, wandered about his kitchen with nervous energy. The anxious profiler paused in his pacing to examine the cooking ingredients that had been carefully laid and arranged for the lesson this evening.

“Yeah, I dropped by an enoteca not too far from your home. Figured you’d be a regular there.” Will admitted, hoping he would sound like he was making casual conversation, and not coming off like he was a stalker. He had been right of course. “When I told the sommeliers what I was looking for and for whom, they had a couple suggestions.”

That was putting it mildly. The girl who had been helping him ended up calling over about half the staff in her excitement once Hannibal’s name had been dropped in passing by Will. Apparently, the prospect of Baltimore’s most eligible bachelor having a potential boyfriend was too good a talking point to pass up.

Getting a preview of what his own personal Hell would look like, Will had been drilled about his ‘cooking date’ by the shop’s girls who could have given some of the FBI’s best interrogators a good run for their money. In the end, Will supposed it was all worth it, the staff showing him exactly what Hannibal preferred, even going so far as to teach him about five different types of wine. It was one of reasons he was so late.

In the end though, and at Will’s insistence that he had to go and no, he didn’t care about the differences between Syrah and Shiraz, it was decided by an affluent sommelier which wine Will would be taking to Hannibal that evening. The man’s selection was the bottle of Zinfandel called ‘Lust‘ and had parted the others like a sea that had sounded with noisy appreciation and squeals of delight for it.

Will had balked at first, the gold and black label featuring an amorous couple, the name of the wine written in finely curled script, seared across the face of the bottle in a blaze of scarlet. The name itself had Will second guessing the choice, but he had been left with little say in the matter. All involved seemed to agree that he was leaving with that bottle or nothing at all, and they wouldn’t take no for an answer. Will didn’t have much choice after that, and if it was what Hannibal liked then who was he to argue? The unexpected social interaction with Hannibal’s fan club had left Will mentally exhausted, physically drained, and feeling even more nervous than before, the empath practically fleeing the shop in his haste.

Pouring the wine for them and setting it aside for now to breathe a bit, Hannibal noted that his usual wine shop had helped Will pick out something that would be flirtatious. To their credit, they had also kept in mind Will’s inexperienced palette, the chosen selection flavorful yet not overwhelming to a novice. He made a mental note to thank them properly for their invaluable assistance.

“Mm,” Hannibal hummed, looking as pleased as a cat given cream and tuna. Intent on taking full advantage of this situation, he came up behind the nervous empath to capture him around the waist. The unexpected physical contact startled Will into stunned stillness, allowing Hannibal to wrap him up in an apron of his own. “They know me well.”

Taking advantage of Will’s drained state and confusion with intimacy, Hannibal took Will’s wrist into his hands to pop the buttons of his shirt cuffs open so that he could roll the cheap cotton up and out of the way. He repeated the gesture on the other arm until Will’s shirt matched his own, at least in some regard. Inexpensive or not, Hannibal appreciated the fact that Will had changed into his ‘good clothes’ for this occasion, but there was no need to ruin them. Not unless it would allow him to buy Will something better.

With that thought in mind, there was a distinct possibility of Hannibal ‘accidentally’ spilling something dark and red on the empath before the end of the night. He would have to make sure whatever it was had an oil base to it. He’d hate for Will to be able to save the doomed garment after he sacrificed his cooking for the greater good.

“You have brought a lovely sipping wine for us to enjoy while we cook.” Hannibal explained, guiding Will to the kitchen island where he had laid out the ingredients for their dinner. Will could see that everything had been arranged in a practical order, even if he was unsure what that order might be. He decided it was safer to focus on what was being said by his host than trying to decipher the method to this cooking madness. “It is a sweeter variation of Zinfandel, which tend to be on the peppery side. This particular vintage will be mellow in flavor though, excellent for your developing palette.”

Satisfied that enough time had passed for the wine to unfold its flavors, Hannibal retrieved their glasses, handing one to Will. Swallowing back some of his ever growing nervousness, Will accepted the offering. If this was to become a regular thing between them, there would be more wine in his future, and he would have to learn to appreciate it.

Before Will could gulp down his wine, he once again experienced the light tap of a finger on the stem of his glass. As before in Hannibal’s office, it was an instruction, one that signaled him to slow down before he abused the wine by doing a whisky swallow with it.

Trying not to blush and hating himself for failing in that, Will lowered his glass all together to watch Hannibal scent his wine thoroughly before even deigning to take a sampling of it.

“What do you smell?” Will asked, surprising himself by doing so. He didn’t want to call attention to his own ignorance, but Hannibal seemed to be experiencing the wine in an almost esoteric manner.

“To describe it simply, it is a lithe wine, rich and jammy with notes of dark fruit, spice, and oak.” Hannibal said. “I could go more in depth about it, but our focus this evening is not upon such matters. I am curious though, what do you smell?”

“Wine.” Will said flatly, giving a slight shrug to go along with his assessment as he slammed back the Zinfandel to earn a faint look of dismay from Hannibal. At the moment, Will cared more about alcohol content and getting that in his blood stream as quickly as possible that his host’s approval.

Letting Hannibal take his now empty glass and off to the side, Will watched in a growing sense of dread as a large wooden cooking board and knife were placed in front of him. Will tried to settle the raging butterflies within him without the help of something with a sixteen point nine percent alcohol content.

“Alright, why don’t you tell me what we’re making?” Will said with a falsely hopeful tone, like knowing what they were going to cook up would actually alleviated some of his anxiety.

“Tonight we will be dinning on penne all'arrabbiata, a simple dish of pasta and sauce accompanied by an equally simple salad.” Hannibal said as he took the initiative of guiding Will’s hands in his own to pick up a chopping knife, and arranging their fingers to comfortable settle along the blade’s spine.

Pressing his chest to Will’s back so that their bodies were flush in alignment with one another, Hannibal trapped Will between himself and the counter. While firmly gripping the handle and denying Will any time to recover from this intimacy, Hannibal wrapped his other hand around a steamed and peeled tomato, arranging their hands and the fruit to begin dicing in quick smooth motions.

“Nothing is simple when it comes to you and cooking.” Will challenged, trying to regain some ground even if it was only in his own head. Watching in fascination as he was puppeted easily about, Will allowed those skilled hands to direct his chopping until nothing was left of the tomato. Its remains were gathered up skillfully with the flat of the blade to be tossed into a bowl sitting just to his right.

Rather than hearing it, Will felt the light laugh that rumbled through Hannibal, the man still wrapped around him like a second skin as he brought another blanched tomato to their cutting board.

“I beg to differ.” Hannibal rumbled low, the man’s heavy accent seeming to catch in the shell of his ear to make Will shiver. He could feel when Hannibal inhaled and exhaled, those thin lips of his much too close for continued comfort. Will worried for both their hands if they were to graze his skin by accident. Before Will could dwell too deeply upon such matters though, those strong hands left him to see to a number of pots on the stove. Will was torn between the equally crushing effects of relief and disappointment. Looking bleakly over that the Zinfandel, Will wondered if it would be a severe breach of etiquette for him to pour another glass for himself. Or drink straight from the bottle.

“The sauce is made from a blend of fresh tomatoes, minced garlic cloves, red pepper flakes, and olive oil. A touch of salt, pepper, lemon juice, basil and sugar can all be added to taste or not at all. Red wine is also optional.” Hannibal informed him as he set a wide shallow pot on medium heat and filling another with water to boil.

Turning back to watch his protégé, Hannibal delighted in watching Will’s shoulders blades dance with tension, though he missed the feel of the profiler against him, being moved about by him so willingly. Hannibal could almost envision them doing such a thing again, but over a corpse with blood coated up to their elbows.

“The dish is as minimal or complex as you want it to be. Tonight we are making it simple. Onion, garlic, tomato, red pepper flakes and olive oil.” Hannibal told him with ideas in mind other than just food.

“That doesn’t sound so simple.” Will scoffed, finishing the last of the tomatoes and taking it upon himself to show initiative by grabbing an onion. “How do you know what wine to use?”

“Chopped please, not minced.” Hannibal instructed, taking a sip of his gift as he watched the agent work with the knives and cutting boards that had helped prepare a teacher just last week. “Wine is about personal preference, Will. You should never force yourself to drink anything you do not care for or inflict it upon others. That would be a discourtesy to yourself and rude to your guests.”

“Jesus!” Will cursed, dropping the knife to grip his finger. Looking up from his wine with calm causality, Hannibal glanced over to the slight pink of the onions on his board, and the blade that had been abandoned to clatter against his counter. Patience paying off, he had known by the way Will had been improperly gripping the onion that this sort of thing would happen.

“Sorry.” Will muttered the apology, feeling the pulse of his finger and the sting of onion juice in the cut. Silently cursed himself for the careless slice, he stepped back from the counter and toward the sink to rinse off the cut before he ended up making an even bigger mess of things. “Maybe I should go.”

Will paused when strong fingers caught his wrist, pulling the bleeding finger free from curled finger hiding to examine it. Beads of blood slid down his finger, creating a rivulet that flooded the creases of his palm to the wrist being held. The wound was raised up to meet a broad tongue, Will unable to tear to his eyes away from the sight of it. Warm and moist against his flesh, the clever muscle caught up the drops before they could touch the fingers that held him in place, cleaning his hand of the sweet crimson. It finished its task by guiding the split digit to thin lips so that it became nestled between them.

“H-Hannibal?” Will stammered, the name becoming both a question and a plea as it caught in his throat. Warmth flooded his lower belly when Will felt the doctor’s tongue slide along the wound, briefly catching it between his teeth before releasing it to examine the cut. “It is shallow. A bandage will suffice.” Hannibal said with a professional air about him, which seemed almost ridiculous to Will considering that his finger had just been in the man’s mouth. Lost in thought about this, Will watched as Hannibal grabbed a kitchen clothe to catch up the gathering blood in a more conventional manner than his mouth. Will was led to another corner of the kitchen where a medical kit more fit for home surgery then general first aid was produced.

Lost momentarily in his own head, Will wasn’t sure if he wanted to breach the subject of Hannibal licking the blood from his skin, or if he should just pretend it was an old Lithuanian custom he wasn’t familiar with. Then again, Hannibal could have been drinking before Will arrived. Allowances in behavior could be made. Maybe behind closed doors, Hannibal was the touchy feely kind of drunk who got all loving and cuddly.

Trying to envision that and failing, Will decided to err on the side of caution and skip that awkward conversation all together. Instead, he watched Hannibal expertly clean and bandage his finger before sliding a bright blue finger condom over the bit of sticky gauze.

“You still want me to cook?” Will realized, flexing the digit to feel the bit of skin pop open and close underneath its bandage.

“Of course, but perhaps I will finish the sauce today. Would you please prepare the spring greens while I finish up?” Hannibal said as he washed up before taking over Will’s cooking station. He nodded to the side, indicated a colander full of vibrant green vegetation that needed attention

Shredding the greens into pieces a little smaller than Hannibal would have preferred, Will watched as the master made quick work of their remaining ingredients, sautéing the fresh onion still pink with his blood and minced garlic golden before throwing in the abundance of diced tomatoes into seemingly uneven portions. Hannibal moved masterfully, every flick of his knife and twist of a spoon made with practiced ease.

In a way, it oddly erotic to watch, dance of food and chef in this space intimate and sensual to Will’s highly tuned senses. It hadn’t escaped his notice that Hannibal hadn’t bothered to rinse off the onion, Will’s blood becoming a spice for their dinner. It didn‘t seem wrong though, Hannibal leaving it in. It made Will feel like he had contributed in some small way other than injuring himself. The thought of Hannibal taking in something that was all Will made the empath’s stomach twist and warm strangely.

“Will, we would like to eat some of the greens.” Hannibal admonished, a flick of maroon warning Will to pay attention to what he was doing. Sure enough he’d managed to mangle a portion of the tender leaves, destroying the once crisp field mix by rolling it into unappetizing balls of green.

“Sorry.” Will ducked his head, returning to his task at hand with renewed focus. He found he couldn’t dwell on thoughts about Hannibal and still fake normalcy.

“I think perhaps you have enjoyed more wine than food today.” Hannibal offered an out for Will, a slight smile edging his lips. “I think you’ll find yourself doing much better tomorrow. Less jitters and more food.”

“We’re doing this again tomorrow?” Will frowned, tapping down his old friend panic. Feeling dismay at the thought of doing this all over again. He watched his therapist lift a heavy pot of boiling water and al dente paste as though it weighed nothing at all, taking it over to the sink to drain.

“Just how many lessons am I getting?” Will made himself ask as he rinsed off his accomplished task of salad shredding with far less blood than the onion.

“I think this is something we should continue until you have settle into better eating habits. Don’t you?” Hannibal told him with a definite nod that brooked no further argument. With swift hands, he skillfully plating two dishes with pasta, sauce and a sprig of some herb Will didn’t recognize but knew he would learn all about later on. “Let us not limit the experience by placing a number upon it.

“I don’t want to inconvenience you.” Will tried to find a loophole out of this arrangement. He didn‘t know how he was going to survive a repeat performance of his inadequacies. Eventually, Hannibal would just get sick of him in his kitchen, and ask him to leave.

Thoughts about Hannibal proved to be too distracting for his own good, Will once again found himself beneath the doctor’s touch. Coming up behind him, Hannibal leaned around Will to take the thoroughly washed spring mix from him, tapping out the last of the excess water. Placing the greens in a bowl, Hannibal poured a generous amount of balsamic vinaigrette over the salad, Will feeling every movement of his body against his back. “The only inconvenience would be your absence.” Will heard Hannibal say low and rumbling, feeling the ghost of thin lips against his ear, soft as silk. It caused a rush of unfamiliar heat to drive itself downward straight to his loins, Will biting back a gasp by smothering it in his bottom lip with his teeth.

“Finish dressing the salad, Will. I’ll get the Chianti, and then we will eat.” Hannibal told the reddening flesh of the profiler’s ears and neck, loving the effect he had on this man.

Tossing the bowl of spring greens so that every leaf was coated evenly with flavor, Will listened on Hannibal as his host finished setting the dining room with their dishes of pasta and new glasses of wine. Garnishing the salad with tomatoes and misery, Will wondered what would be the most practical way of hiding the erection that pressed itself up high and tight to the front of his pants.


	2. Second Course

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They cook, they flirt, Will gets a little flustered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SKU again, welcome to the second course, please take a seat and join us for dinner; we have something extra special planned for desert this evening and hope that you will all enjoy your dinning experience~<3 
> 
> We do not own Hannibal.
> 
> Beta Read by DarkmoonSigel

Despite the previous night’s endeavor not going quite as expected, Hannibal did not consider it a failure. He had not intended on seducing the skilled profiler, but the noticeable flush of Will’s skin and quickened heartbeat he’d felt when pressed up against the skittish man’s back indicated that he had done just that. The noticeable bulge in Will’s trousers also dismissed any doubts Hannibal may have had on the matter, though Will had done his best to hide it.  
  
To give credit where credit where due, Will had tried to conceal his embarrassment and his very impressive shame with the salad bowl, as futile an attempt as it had been in the end. Hannibal had politely refrained from staring or commenting about it, preferring to watch Will implode instead.  
  
As much as he’d enjoyed their tension filled evening, Hannibal needed an approach that would take some of the nervous edge off of the empath, which was why he was planning on for tonight’s menu to feature a whole snapper. Having fish as a meal held significance. The only leisurely activity Will had ever mentioned in and out of therapy was fly fishing, the outdoor pursuit his method of coping with loneliness by disguising it as needed solitude.  
  
That being said, Hannibal wasn’t about to trudge out into the rivers of Wolf Trap, or anywhere else for that matter, to catch something local. Not when he could create an illusion of the favored pastime for his empath by having the pair prepare a whole fish bought from a trusted fishmonger. It was something Will would find familiar, and perhaps even calming, perfect for relieving some of his social anxiety until he lost himself in their cooking lesson.  
  
Or in Hannibal’s bed.  
  
The thought of having Will adrift in lust and wanting beneath him was appealing, more so now that there were signs of Will’s own interest in that particular venture, certain interesting aspects coming to light. With the newfound evidence of mutual want, Hannibal found his mind wondering about the possibility of lithe limbs wrapped around his neck, gasping lips pressed into his shoulder, and rough heels digging into his lower back. All while he forced himself into Will’s tight heat, taking the man over and over again upon the jewel toned silk sheets of his bed...  
  
…But those were not thoughts meant for the office lest he wished to entice Franklyn who was currently giving him a very obvious once over. With a swell of disgust replacing the growing lust, Hannibal directed his attention back to the dinner he’d been planning as he pretended to listen to his obsessive patient‘s prattle on about his neuroses. It was almost a relief to shoo Franklin out of his office, Hannibal positive that he would see Franklin wearing a perverted take on his suit next week.  
  
Gathering up a pen and paper in hand as he took a seat behind his desk, Hannibal listed the necessary fresh ingredients he would need to obtain for that night, his elegant cursive inking reminders marking fine lined paper in regards to fish, mushrooms, and wine. The sound of the phone ringing made Hannibal check his watch, tearing his attention away from his list, and back into the reality of patients and appointments. Finding he had time, Hannibal discovered motivation as well upon seeing that his caller was Will.  
  
“Good afternoon, Will.” Hannibal found himself purring into the phone, the flicker of a smile pulling at the corners of his bowed mouth as he debated the finer points of mushrooms.  
  
“Hey…” Came the worn voice of his favorite unofficial patient. From the tone alone, Hannibal could easily imagine the man rubbing the scruff of his jaw as he tried to organize his stray thoughts. “I’ll have to take a rain check on dinner.”  
  
The sound of apology laced each word with mild grief. It was not sound unfamiliar to the doctor, having heard Will’s voice take on such a tone before, usually in regard to the few therapy sessions he’d been forced to re-schedule. All thanks for the cancellations were due to Jack and his cases.  
  
Speaking of cases and killers, Hannibal briefly wondered if Will would ever notice the slight pattern in his own displayed killings. It was a subtle and he killed infrequently enough, but there was one there if Will were to ever look hard enough for it. The profiler just might notice that the Chesapeake Ripper never slaughtered a pig the day before one of Will’s appointments, and now his cooking lessons.  
  
With his version of art far enough apart not to attract any attention as to their day of the week and Will’s ever changing appointment times, Hannibal doubted anyone would inadvertently stumble across his small pattern. It would be another one of his little secrets, even if the FBI did ever manage to catch on to him. With Jack leading the hunt, that day of revelation was a long way off, considering the agent couldn’t seem to find his own ass with both hands without Will guiding him to it. As it was, the arrangement existed purely out of his own selfish desires and personal enjoyment of seeing Will. He simply didn’t want his most interesting patient to miss an appointment on account of his own creativity.  
  
“I take it Agent Crawford has a new case for you to look at for him?” Hannibal asked, already knowing the answer as he decided upon cremini mushrooms over shitake. More similar to the white button mushrooms Americans tended to eat in excess, he doubted Will would be too dubious of the little fungi’s presence in the dish.  
  
“Yeah.” Will sighed. It was the sound of defeat, as though he was finally accepting his sacrifice in a losing battle. Hannibal wondered if that loss of figurative life was in regard to the ongoing abuse Will received from Jack, or a final acceptance toward his diminishing mental health. “Look, it’s gonna be a late one, and I don’t expect you to sit up waiting for me. We’ll just have to do this another time.”  
  
“Nonsense.” Hannibal dismissed the profiler’s excuse to all but hear the hallmarks of surprise over the phone he knew Will was wearing on his face, and was marked in his stilted breathing. Hannibal easily envisioned the draw of  the profiler’s tired brow, the heavy stoop of his shoulders, and the nervous shuffling of his feet.  
  
“If you are taking on another case, then it is all the more important we follow through with our lesson. I will help you unwind yourself from this killer with good company, food, and drink. You will sleep all the better for it.” Hannibal promised, leaving no room for argument or escape for Will.  
  
“I will not see my friend deteriorate because Jack finds himself blind while tracking down America’s most wanted.” was added with a note of kindness, the tone of it softening the edge of his voice and accent.  
  
“I really don’t want to put you out.” Will continued to resist,  sounding tired, strained, and divided. It would not take much to break the last of his resolve and be malleable as clay in Hannibal’s capable hands. It was a medium he hoped to one day to sculpt Will into something better fitting of the man’s talents than as Jack’s blood hound. Something with sharp edges and a defining hunger of its own.  
  
“I might not get to your place until midnight, and you have other patients you need to be up for in the morning.” Will tried his damnedest to dissuade, attempting to appeal to Hannibal‘s sense of professionalism.  
  
“The only patient I am feeling concerned about right now is you. I will not press you any further on the matter if you do not wish to keep company with me this evening, but I sincerely feel that it is in your best interest to join me tonight for dinner.” Hannibal told him, not in the voice of a doctor to his patient, but as a concerned friend. He knew Will would be able to pick up on it, being one of the few people who could. Hannibal was not above using Will‘s own empathy against him, especially if it got him something he wanted. “I will be up should you change your mind.”  
  
Hannibal could practically hear the walls of Will’s resolve breaking, his bone forts shattering in on themselves. The man would not allow Hannibal to waste his evening waiting for naught. Whether he admitted it to himself now or later, the empath would be joining him for dinner.  
  
“Knowing that you will be running late, I will drop by your home and let out your pack, regardless of your choice .” Hannibal said, more informing Will than offering. It effectively destroyed the profiler’s last excuse for escape.  
  
“I can’t ask you to do that. It’s too far out of the way-” Will started to say to break off suddenly, the sound of another voice muffled through the receiver as fabric brushed against the phone. Whatever had been said, Hannibal heard Will sigh in surrender at it. “I’m coming.”  
  
Will had moved his phone, Hannibal noted, so as to not shout in his ear while addressing who he assumed to be Jack. He was always one to appreciate politeness and even more so, thoughtfulness. That fact that Will applied both here made his heart grow warm.  
  
“I’m sorry. I’ve have to go. Jack needs me.” Will sighed, anxiety creeping back into his voice. “I’ll call you later about dinner.”  
  
The last thing he heard before Will got off the phone was another shout from Jack ordering Will to ‘hang up already and get his ass back to the crime scene‘. It made Hannibal momentarily debate if the FBI agent would be better served as a filet mignon or Beef Wellington before returning to his list.  
  
“One day, you will lose your entertainment value, Jack.” Hannibal said in warning to the ensuing silence. “And on that day, Will shall enjoy a very flavorful dinner.”

_-_-_  
  
The drive out to Wolf Trap proved to be long yet fruitful. After seeing to the pack’s bathroom needs, and refreshing their food and water dishes, Hannibal took the liberty of going through the profiler’s closets and drawers. It was nothing the doctor hadn’t seen before, the usual cheap cottons and polyesters staring back at him from Will’s drawers, and his sub par products from the shelves.  
  
Hannibal was tempted to throw out that damn cologne Will insisted on wearing, the bottle with the ship upon its face mocking him with its continued existence. The only thing that really stayed Hannibal’s hand in the matter was that Will had taken to not wearing it around him at their appointments and such. Perhaps the profiler could be nudged in the direction of something more appropriate, or flat out guilt tripped into wearing whatever Hannibal decided to buy for him.  
  
Looking through Will’s small selection of clothing, Hannibal sorted out what he felt to be the more flattering pieces from the man‘s wardrobe. Ignoring all the flannel and jeans, Hannibal professionally eyed his selection, bringing the baggy articles down several sizes so that they perfectly fit the model of Will in his mind. Satisfied, Hannibal glanced at the tags with a slight curl in his lips before folding each piece carefully, tucking his prizes away into a leather messenger bag he normally reserved for documents.  
  
Satisfied with his venture and adding ‘thief’ to his already extensive resume, Hannibal left with his stolen goods and began the long drive back to Baltimore, making detours along the way for a series of errands. Hannibal visited his fishmonger first, an upscale grocery that only provided freshest organic product next, and the enoteca Will had visited the day before last. In the midst of all that, Hannibal found he still had time to pop in on one of his preferred tailor, the other being in Italy.  
  
Ever a patient man, Hannibal still found that the longest portion of his evening was the one dedicated to waiting for Will. He noticed that he was looking forward to the empath’s arrival, feeling a small thrill of excitement trickle through him at the thought of continuing his lessons with Will.  
  
Sitting in his favored chair and reading the latest article on TattleCrime.com, Hannibal sipped a glass of Nero D'avola as he awaited notice from his absent company. He tried to ignore how eager he felt about hearing from Will in regards to their dinner and the case’s end. As expected, Hannibal received a text late that evening, the clock reading off a quarter to eleven when the little message came through.  
  
*** I’m just leaving the scene now. It’ll be another thirty minutes or so before I get to your place. Are you sure you still want me to come?***  
  
Hannibal knew that Will suspected he might be asleep. It was why he hadn’t called, choosing to text so as not to wake him. A quiet beep from an incoming text was far quieter than the repetitive ring of a phone. Hannibal wasn’t about to let Will off the hook though, not when he had them so securely in him. Immediately, Hannibal texted back, rising from his chair to begin preparations for the late lesson.  
  
***Wonderful. That will give me plenty of time to set up for diner.***  
   
_-_-_  
  
Once again Will found himself standing on his doctor’s doorstop, but this time, the nervous butterflies of anxiety didn’t flutter up against his belly as he stared at the door’s heavy brass knocker. He was too tired for the little bugs to even take flight. Instead of being filled to the brim with nervous life, Will simply felt drained. The claws of his old friend fear still dug deep within the shadows of his mind, thoughts of blood and flesh and death seeping in from the wounds it made there. He was tired and anxious and all he wanted to do was cuddle up with his pack before crawling into a bottle of whisky.  
  
Much to Will’s own personal dismay, Hannibal had been right in his assessment though. Though Will had only slept a few hours the night before, the time spent in slumber had been undisturbed by sleepwalking or night terrors. It had only been one night, but for a time, his mind had been untangled from the Ripper and all the other cases that usually crowded in on him. He had ended up feeling more rested after those few hours of undisturbed sleep than he had all week from waking dreams.  
  
Taking the heavy knocker in hand much as he had the night before, Will hit it twice against the brass base. Soon enough, the door swung open to reveal a very pleased looking Hannibal.  
  
“Come in, I was just laying out the ingredients for tonight’s diner. I didn’t expect you so soon.” Hannibal told him in way of greeting, his smile slight but very much there. Its presence and his notice of it warmed Will from the inside far more than it should have.  
  
“Traffic was light,” Will offered in answer, hanging his coat to follow the chef into his sanctuary. After the mishap from the night before still weighing heavily on his mind, Will found he didn‘t trust himself. “So what are we making tonight? Nothing complicated I hope.”  
  
“Nothing complicated.” Hannibal reassured, once again taking it upon himself to wrap Will in an apron and fold back his sleeves for him. The attention and skin on skin contact made the wary profiler flush rather enticingly in Hannibal’s opinion.  
  
In attempt to keep calm and not embarrass himself further, Will turned his attention to an assortment of herbs nearby, their pots cleverly built right into the wall. If Will had to guess, he would say that Hannibal had a hand in building the house, at least some aspects of it. His design was in everything around them, practically in the very air itself.  
  
Noting the curious look in his eyes, Hannibal followed Will’s gaze to the little pots, “That is my herb garden. I use a blend of fresh and dried. Some of the finer spices, like saffron, simply can not be grown in one’s kitchen in the quantity needed.” he said.  
  
Plucking a few leaves from off of the various plants, Hannibal presented the herbs to Will in demonstration of their virtues. Laying them across the counter for Will to better examine, Hannibal placed a name to each as he went down the vibrant line of green.  
  
“Rosemary, Italian parsley, oregano, mint, and common basil.” Hannibal explained, touching each leaf in turn. Will examined the herbs carefully, as if he was going to be tested about the information at a later date. He scrutinized the fragrant evergreen spines of the rosemary in comparison to the fluffy bush of Italian parsley in such a manner it reminded Hannibal of how the profiler acted at a crime scene.  
  
On his part, Will found himself wondering briefly what had possessed anyone in times long past to pick a bit of the fragrant grass and rub it all over their food, thinking that was a good idea. His thoughts on the matter short circuited themselves when Hannibal cupped the side of his face in a casual manner that felt far more intimate than it should.  
  
“Each herb has its own distinct flavor and fragrance.” Hannibal explained, selecting a leaf of mint to press it to chapped lips. Stunned into compliance by a skin hunger Will usually could ignore, the velvety green felt soft yet tingly against Will’s mouth, the profiler parting his lips to accept the bit of offered vegetation. More surprise on his part rather than practicing any form of seduction caused Will’s tongue to taste Hannibal’s fingertips. Will found himself sampling both the cool burn of the plant and the salt of Hannibal’s touch, the combination contrasting in flavor, just as much as the rosemary and parsley had in appearance.  
  
“Some you may be more familiar with than others.” Hannibal continued, seemingly unperturbed by the fact Will had just licked his fingers. He followed up the mint with a piece of basil, pressing the smooth flat leaf to lips that once again parted to accept the offering from fingers that lingered just a second too long to be considered coincidence.  It was enough to make Will look straight on at his host.  
  
Brewing ocean storm met blood stained brown. Within him, Will felt a great number of the fluttering bugs reviving in full force to tickle his ribcage, enough so to steal his breathe away. The moment was fleeting, Hannibal letting go of Will’s face in a manner that said ordinary interaction. Will couldn’t say, not being well versed enough in relationships of any sort to gauge what was commonplace and what was privately suggestive. It made the empath wonder if he was reading too much into everything, seeing hints and suggestions where there were none.   
  
“Are you trying to tell me that I should pick up a book on herbs?” Will asked, chewing thoughtfully at the bit of leaf as he tried to sort out what had just happened between them. He decided to keep to the safer topics of cooking, not wishing to repeat the mistakes he had made with Alana.  
  
“I believe it would be to your benefit,” Hannibal said, busying himself with the disposal of the remaining herbs and wiping down his counters. Having laid some groundwork, he could afford to give Will some space for now to come to his own conclusions. With any luck, by the time Will became fully aware of Hannibal‘s more amorous intentions, the profiler would already be trapped in the cage Hannibal had built around him.  
  
Taking out a parchment wrapped means to his ends from the fridge, Hannibal removed the covering to lay a whole snapper on the counter in front of Will.  “You will find yourself seeking out certain flavors as you develop your skill in the culinary arts and train up your palette. A working knowledge of what those flavors are, and how they work with one another will only serve to assist you.” He said, finding himself closely watching the man’s reaction to the selection for meal’s main dish.  
  
“This is a lovely fish.” Will breathed out the compliment in appreciation, examining the snapper’s bright red and pink colorations that stood out in contrast to the white and silver scales of its underbelly. The lack of odor and bright, clear eyes confirmed the fish’s freshness. Something was amiss though.  
  
“Aren’t these generally sold gutted?” Will asked the fish instead of Hannibal, his eyes still examining their tasty diner. With quiet interest, Hannibal watched as Will picked up the fish by its gills to examine it front and back, sliding his fingers along its length and fins. As he did so, the normally seen tension in his shoulders visibly shifting into something closer to confidence as he lost himself in examining the virtues of the meat.  
  
“I placed a special request with my fish monger this morning. I thought you might enjoy preparing the fish.” Hannibal offered as he slipped a knife into Will’s free hand, working to keep a smile of delight off of his face as he did so. Unlike the previous evening, Will didn’t hesitate in taking the steel, his fingers wrapping around its handle with little thought as he brought the fish over the sink and began de-scaling it without any further instruction.  
  
It was beautiful to watch, such assured grace and confidence radiating from Will as he fell into muscle memory, adjusting the skill he usually saved for the bass he caught while fly fishing for the different fins and scaling of the snapper.  
  
“You may be a little unfamiliar with this blade…” Hannibal started to inform, feeling like he had to say something as he came up alongside the profiler to better view his ability as he worked.  
  
“It is a Deba, a Japanese fish knife made of hardened steel used for gutting, filleting and de-scaling.” Will interrupted with an appreciative hum for the blade. He had always wanted one, but never seemed to remember to take the time to purchase it.  
  
The confirmation that Will was listening as he worked was enough for Hannibal to make exception to the slight breach in etiquette. Will seemed to be completely enraptured by what he was doing, expertly using the blade he had never seen or used before to complete his task. The masterful movements of a keen blade parting fresh meat made Hannibal feel strange with an anticipation that usually only came with the creation of his own art.  
  
Satisfied with the snapper’s cleaning, Will walked it back to the cutting board on the counter, letting maroon eyes drink in his every movement. Will could feel that intense gaze he dared not meet for long rake over him as he laid the snapper across the counter, laying one hand atop to hold it flat as he slipped the blade’s tip into its gullet and sliced it down the belly.  
  
It was an image Hannibal was not soon to forget, such certainty in the usually skittish profiler as he opened up his body of work. He couldn’t help but wonder, couldn’t resist the temptation of imagining just what Will would look like doing the exact same thing to the slender diaphragm of a red headed woman.  
  
Pale creamy skin that would contrast to Will’s own as he held her in place, one strong hand keeping his chosen prize still as he gently hushed her in soothing tones, sweet yet false in their promises.  All the while letting cool steel tuck into her sternum, Will expertly dragging a polished blade downward to open up her belly and make it vibrantly blossom with violent offerings of pain. From that point on, Will’s hands would be painted wet with crimson that gushed and flowed freely from her as he pulled lengths of offal from a living dead girl.  
  
In response to the fantasy flooding him with excitement,  Hannibal could feel his cock twitch, his sex beginning to swell even as the thoughts faded from his mind. He couldn’t risk scaring off Will, or hinting too early to his truer nature.  
  
“I think we should keep this one whole.” Hannibal heard Will say to him, the doctor more involved with his other senses to focus properly. His vision was currently filled with an echo of his desire. Will’s hands were covered in crimson as he reached inside the throat of the fish, gripped at its innards to pull them free with a single practiced movement. As he did this, Will nicked the bits of sinew that tried to keep the offal inside, tearing the last of it away with practiced ease. Adjusting himself while Will’s attentions were still elsewhere, Hannibal drank in the sight of it.  
  
Pleased with the finished product of his gutting, Will glanced over at Hannibal at last, noticing for the first time the fascination Hannibal held in regard to him handling of their food. His friend seeming utterly enthralled with his skilled knife work. It took a moment, but Will soon realized he had managed to impress the good doctor. Will knew that such a thing was no easy feat. In a way, he felt honored that he obtained it for himself where he was sure so many others had failed.  
  
It was a very rare thing for him to do so, given few chances for it in his life, but Will could himself beginning to preen. The unfamiliar sensation of peacocking stayed with him as Will walked the snapper back to the sink. He carefully rinsed out the rest of the blood from their dinner.  
  
As he meticulously cleaned the fins and gills that had been left on for decoration, Will could feel sanguine eyes following the movements of his hands. There was an odd sensation of admiration coming from the gaze, but not that kind that made Will’s skin prickle in alarm. For once, he wasn’t being stripped down mentally for a paper, or psychoanalyzed for his unique thought patterns. He was simply being admired. Of all people, Hannibal Lecter was admiring him.  
  
Needing some mental breathing room to deal with this revelation, Will took a moment to clean their work station before resuming as Will returned the fish to the counter. He found much to his surprise that he could deal with that, that Hannibal’s appreciation was something he wanted in his life.  
  
 “So, what are we doing with it?” Will asked, with a calm unfamiliar to his being as he visibly relaxed.  He turned to face Hannibal, even meeting his host’s eye momentarily in fleeting glances.  
  
“Tonight we will dine on meunière snapper with creamed spinach and a walnut rice pilaf. I have selected a Viognier to pair with it.” Hannibal answered, hardly able to stop the slight pull of lips as Will reached for the bowl of milk on his own to place the snapper in its opaque depths. Will went too soon to the flour though, Hannibal’s hand lightly catching his wrist.  
  
“We need to season our flour first.” Hannibal instructed, letting his fingers slide along soft flesh and curvature. He lingered over Will’s pulse-point, taking the time to read it. The quickened pace tattled on Will, telling Hannibal all about the excitement that brewed under his skin.  
   
Hannibal was beginning to understand just how starved Will was for human contact. It was a strange cruelty and yet necessary respite to impose solitude on a person with Will’s unique abilities. Will could become overloaded if he felt too much, but lack of stimuli was just as detrimental causing the empath to react to even the simplest touches of casual exchange. There was a hunger there, lurking behind Will’s eyes and in the curl of his fingers, one of extreme and uncharted need.  
  
“Unlike the fresh herbs I was showing you before for this, we will want something dried.” Hannibal said.  His hand still upon the man’s wrist, he brought Will with him as he opened a pantry door, revealing an assortment of sealed jars filled with dried and preserved herbaceous produce. Handing a few bottles over to Will, Hannibal finally let go of the profiler to retrieve a marble mortar and pestle as well before returning to the counter.  
  
“They’re more fragrant.” Will noted aloud, finding the air suddenly overtaken as the lids were lifted off.  
  
“Indeed. Drying brings out what the luster of life tends to hide.” Hannibal said as he placed each selection of spice into a mortar before placed the pestle into Will’s hand. Moving to stand comfortably behind Will, his own remained atop so that the profiler could feel the flex of his fingers as he pushed the rounded end of the pestle up against the concave sides of the mortar, crushing the assortment of herbs. It filled the air with an explosion of rich fragrance.  
  
Like the night before, Will could feel each and every movement of Hannibal’s muscles around him. The strong hands that lay overtop his own commanded in their movements while directing them fluidly to work in tandem together. The contractions of Hannibal’s bicep against his arm were doing terrible things to Will‘s concentration. In the midst of all these sensations, Will realized that Hannibal was keeping him trapped between himself and the counter. Instead of feeling ensnared though, the surprisingly hard torso just behind him was like a wall Will could steady himself upon.  
  
Despite his best intentions to stay neutral, Will found that the contact being shared between them felt almost sexual in nature, to have so much of the doctor pressed up against him. The feeling only intensified with the press of hips against his backside, and a thigh rubbing across the back of his leg as he shifted, following the movements being directed to him.  
  
“I’ve noticed we’re not drinking while we cook tonight.” Will winced as his voice came out sounding high and tight. He was getting desperate for a distraction though. Anything to help stop his mind from dwelling upon the pressure of another body along his back, and scent of expensive cologne that tickled his nose more than the spices.  
  
“Not this evening.” Hannibal answered, intentionally pitching his voice low so that his accent came out huskier than usual.  “I would like for us to taste this dish with a fresh palette…”  
  
Leaving the pestle in the mortar, Hannibal lifted Will’s hand up so that he could press his lips to the injured finger. “..,and without injury.” He added. Stepping back, Hannibal released Will to give the man a moment to himself, his embarrassment brightly coloring his skin. Amused but hiding it, Hannibal saw to preparing the creamed spinach.  
  
Flustered into silence, Will distracted himself by adding the ground herbs to the flour. It took it upon himself to go ahead and start seasoning the fish, evenly dusting the snapper with a coat of speckled white. He was careful to avoid the fins and head though so that they would keep their color during cooking. Refusing to take his eyes off of the fish, Will knew he was being watched by Hannibal, could feel the linger of eyes on his back.  
  
“If I didn’t know any better, I would say you have made this before. Are you a fan of meunière?” Hannibal asked as he cooked down onions with bacon to become clear in color and mild in flavor before adding the spinach to it and lastly, a splash of cream.  
  
“No.” Will moved the fish to the side as he considered the oil filled pot and remaining ingredients. “I don’t know exactly what meunière is, but I like fish battered and fried. It doesn’t take a huge mental leap to figure out what meunière style entails when you‘ve left all this out.”  
  
Satisfied with Will’s answer, Hannibal directed his attention to a bowl of small white mushrooms. Will thought that they looked like buttons except for the brown of their caps. The mushrooms being an ingredient in Hannibal’s kitchen, he also doubted that the man would ever use something as mundane as a white button mushrooms in anything. The fungi was accompanied by a shallow dish full of what looked like little hard peas. they could have been pebbles for all Will knew, given their dark color and dense looking nature.  
  
“If you would, please slice the cremini for the meunière‘s sauce.” Hannibal instructed. “Meunière…” he began to explain at last, supervising from his spot at the stove Will’s progress and preparation of the snapper. “…is pan fried fish served in a brown butter mushroom and caper sauce.”  
  
Will turned his attention to the little pebbles that were actually food he had dismissed earlier, now curious about the little vegetation. “A caper?” he asked of the bud, picking one up out of the bowl, “I thought these were some kind of bean.” He admitted his ignorance to some extent as he examining the dark green ball closer.  
  
“They are a part of the capparaceae family, a relative of the legume.” Hannibal informed him with ease, enjoying Will’s growing curiosity of their art as he switched his attention to another pot. It was one Will hadn’t noticed him attending to before, the profiler chiding himself for not paying attention.  
  
The way the contents of the pot popped and boiled when Hannibal lifted the lid revealed it to be rice of some sort cooking away. Obviously satisfied with what he found there, Hannibal gave it a quick stir before replacing the lid. Removing the pot from the heat, he returned his attention to the spinach.  
  
“I have confidence in your ability to fry up a fish. You may do so now. The sides are almost done.” Hannibal informed him, forcing Will’s attention back to the dinner at hand and away from the smooth movements of his therapist.  
  
Waiting until the olive oil was properly heated, Will eased in the coated snapper, the flesh hissing and popping as the oil crisped the flour into a golden crust over the red flesh. Even with Hannibal giving him instructions from time to time, Will felt at ease in his cooking, losing himself in the preparation of the fish as he watched it fry up tender. It was something he knew how to do and do well. It was food he’d made for himself a thousand times before, from childhood to adulthood and on every weekend he could get himself to the river. It was something simple he could let himself escape into away from the nightmares of his mind and the real monsters of reality.  
  
Letting the flesh grow ‘fall off the bone’ tender, Will flipped the fish so that it cooked evenly on both sides, the tips of fins getting crispy and the crust turning golden. Off to his side, Hannibal added this and that to his spinach mixture and walnut rice like some apothecary in a shop, creating potion and poisons.  To Will’s amazement, he found that they were working together in perfect unison on the meal, each keeping pace with the other in their respective tasks.  
  
“Plate the fish when it is done, and move it to the side.” came Will’s next instruction. Finding the snapper done, Will followed his chef’s orders in quick movements. “After draining some of the oil away, in the same pan I want you to stir in the butter I‘ve measured out for you, and the mushrooms and capers. Once the butter begins to brown, you can pour it over our fish.”  
  
Taking the wooden spoon handed to him, Will tapered off his oil to add in the ingredients to his pan, watching the butter thicken naturally with the reduction of moisture while cooking the slivers of mushrooms and beads of capers as it heated.  
  
“This is pretty simple,” Will admitted out loud as he stirred the sauce. “And quick.”  
  
Even the sides Hannibal was currently dividing between their plate seemed easy enough to throw together, Will confident that he could recreate the spinach. He might have to read the back of a package for the rice, but he reasoned it should be a simple thing to figure out.  
  
“Most cooking is.” Hannibal said in encouragement, liking how confidence sounded in Will‘s voice. He took the plated fish in hand once Will finished pouring the sauce over it with a laymen’s heavy touch, a splash of sauce dripping over the plate and onto his counter. Hannibal ignored it for now, not wanting to see Will deflate himself over something trivial.  
  
“Cooking is only as complicated as you want it to be.” Hannibal told him as he leaned into Will’s personal space. In passing, he let his lips press up feather light against the scruff of Will’s jaw before disappearing into the dining room, skillfully balancing the three plates of their dinner along his arms.  
  
“He’s flirting with me,” Will realized at long last, his fingers reaching up to touch the skin that still tingled from where Hannibal’s lips had made contact.  
   
“People don’t flirt with me…” Will argued pointedly with himself, letting his broken mind drift back to painful  memories of rejection. People didn’t want to be his friend because he was too strange to socialize with,  and people certainly didn’t want to date something that was broken. Alana was proof enough of that, and some days he was hardly treated as human by other people.  
  
Except when he was with Hannibal who always treated him like a person. He seemed to accept him in his entirety without ever asking him to change or telling him that he was broken. The rational side of Will’s mind reminded him that Hannibal was his therapist, for crying out loud and to get a grip. He knew Will was off balance, and yet…he had been making advances all night.  
  
Hannibal was flirting with him, and Will didn‘t know how he should feel about that other than not make a fool of himself while eating.

_-_-_  
  
Back in Wolf Trap and sitting alone on his bed, Will tried to imagine what it would be like if he decided to stay at Hannibal‘s, what might happen if he were bolder and more suave in nature. How it would feel to have Hannibal sitting behind him in bed with his body rested against the warm flesh of his doctor’s. Of Hannibal’s large, dexterous hand wrapped around his weeping member instead of his own right now. Will imagined Hannibal’s skilled fingers playing up and down his sensitive skin, stirring up heat with every touch.  
  
Taking a shaky breath, Will gave into temptation and closed his eyes, letting his golden pendulum swing. Instead of a murder, the considerable force that was his imagination created something new instead of reassembled a scene.  
  
Once…twice…thrice.  
  
“Will..” An accented voice sounded in his ear as the warmth of a tongue caught his earlobe before it was pulled it between warm lips. Hannibal was there, sucking lightly at his skin to leave little marks of ownership upon it.  
  
“You don’t have to be alone, my dear Will.” Will’s version of Hannibal whispered temptation so sweetly to him. “I would have you.”  
  
Giving in fully to the fantasy of his own making, Will moaned, leaning back into the hard chest behind him that braced him up as a talented hand replaced his own, moving up and down the length of his shaft. Blunt nails skimming his underside with light scrapes all the way to his tip to circle the bulbous head of it. A groan escaped Will as a broad thumb, calloused rough from cooking, swiping across his sensitive head making Will’s spine arch.  
  
“Would you like that?” Hannibal breathed out the words soft and sweet as sin as he pressed down on the slit to gather up a pearly bead of  pre-cum.  
Desperate to find more friction, Will bucked, begging out in pants for a quicker pace. His release was so close, a certain thing. He was stopped in his fraught attempts by a strong arm pressing him tight up against the toned body behind him. The feeling of firm muscles and powerful legs beneath him held Will securely in place as the maddeningly slow treatment of his sex continued.  
  
“Patience, dear boy. If you rush satisfaction, your release will be lacking. Like all good things, one must take their time in their construction.” was mouthed into his skin. Will felt the teasing smile being pressed against his neck, the slight upturn of thin lips that kissed and lapped at his nape, reddening the skin there. “You wouldn’t want to disappoint me, would you, Will?”  
  
Arching again, Will gasped for air, reaching back to card his fingers through locks of ashen hair, like strange warm silk between his fingers. He gripped at them as he fought against his own climax, letting the doctor direct him in pleasure as he did in cooking.  
  
“So good for me.” Hannibal whispered as he freed a hand to bring slick fingers up Will’s lips, slipping the digits between his chapped flesh. He allowed Will to suck off the tang of his desire, swapping out pre-cum for salvia. All the while, Hannibal continued to slowly pump his hand, working Will over until all he could do was gasp and flail against  him.  
  
“Spread yourself for me.” came the next order and Will let it happen, easing his legs apart as the hand he had been sucking on slid down his body. Past the hand still wrapped around his cock to drift teasingly behind the velvet of his balls and perineum, pushing between the mounds of his ass to circle the tight ring of his entrance.  
  
“Is this what you want from me, Will?” Hannibal asked in that way of his that he wasn’t really doing so. Before he could answer, Will felt the burn of a finger breaching him. It seemed to only increase the building heat in his belly, his pleasure a liquid thing demanding release.  
  
“No.” Will said with a shudder, his body quaking under the administrations of the man behind him, working him open slowly. A second finger joining the first to open Will up wider, curious touch diving deeper into his heat.  
  
“I want.” Will gasped, feeling the digits touch base with his pleasure, making him jerk as they brush against a sensitive spot within him.  
  
“I want more than this.” Will managed out between broken breaths, leaning back to let his head rest against a powerful shoulder as Hannibal moved all around him, fanning out fingers within him in exploration while continuing the steady pump of his swollen member. The movements dragged moan after moan out the empath’s mouth, shamelessly loud and wanton in their sound.  
  
“You can have that.” was promised as a third finger pressed into him, painfully stretching the ring of flesh that tried to accommodate the intrusion. The slick from his spit did little to alleviate the burn of friction as Hannibal found his prostate again and again, mercilessly working the nerves over with the clever twist of his fingertips. Vision starting to white out, Will could feel he was almost there, inching closer and closer to that finish he craved with every fiber of his being, with each push inside of him.  
  
“I want…” Will clenched his eyes shut, crying out as his orgasm claimed him at long last, something taunt in his loins finally giving. In that moment between spaces of thinking and feeling, Will felt so whole, complete almost with Hannibal in him and around him.  
  
 Panting, Will opened his eyes to find his illusion shattered as he let himself see the faces of his furry audience. His pack seemed concerned about some of the noises their alpha had been making moments before. Will counted himself lucky that he didn’t have neighbors.  
  
With the awkward embarrassment that came from having pets witness human behavior, Will pulled his fingers out of himself and took a hand coated with his own spent off of his cock. He may have lost the vision, but not his train of thought.

“I want more than sex.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Your kudo's are asking for a second helping of snapper, your comments are begging for second helping of porn. :B


	3. Third Course

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will shows up for his next lesson in cooking and brings a gift.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was going well over 8000 words so we had to split it in two, too much cooking and flirting to fit all in one piece. ;D
> 
> We do not own Hannibal.
> 
> This story has been beta read by DarkmoonSigel.

“You shaved…”   
  
Price sounded almost startled at his own observation, bringing the attention of his fellow scientists down upon the profiler as he entered the room. Will stared back at them wide eyed like a deer caught in headlights as he was examined as closely as any specimen by them. Zeller was the next to comment, walking around his work station to get a better look at the empath.   
  
“What are you all cleaned up for?” Zeller asked with a smirk, looking down from Will’s smooth jaw to the two piece navy blue suit. “You’re wearing a suit and everything.”  
  
“Do you have a date?” Price asked, picking up the conversation again right where it had been left off. He abandoned his post to join Zeller in their newest investigation, the case of the socially stunted profiler.   
  
“No, I do not have a date.” Will said a little too quickly to be believable, his reply laced with venom. He was feeling unappreciative of the friendly hazing.   
  
“You know Will, you clean up pretty good.” Katz said, making Will almost groan out loud as she was the next to approach. To his chagrin, she gave Will an appreciative once over. “Is it anyone we know?”  
  
“I’m just going to have dinner with Dr. Lecter.” Will argued, suddenly regretting his decision to dress up for the occasion. He didn’t like the attention his change of attire had gained him.  
  
“I honestly thought Dr. Bloom was more your type, but Lecter has his charms as well, I suppose.” Price shrugged, looking unsurprised by the empathy’s admittance. The remark earning himself a questioning look from Zeller, Price rolling his eyes at the man‘s ignorance.  
  
“It’s not like that.” Will said desperately, suddenly feeling like he was back in high school and a hell of lot more popular than he had been in real life. He actually had someone else to argue with about the parameters of his relationship like a pubescent teen, instead of just observing such interactions from others. “We’re friends and he’s my doctor. It would never work.”   
  
Even as the words left his own mouth, Will hoped they were a lie. Hannibal wasn’t officially his doctor in any capacity. “He is teaching me how to cook. It’s just something to help me relax in the evenings, to get my head away from the cases that keep me up.” he said.  
  
“Yes I can see how that would entail you needing to shave and dress in a suit.” Zeller teased with a wide grin, loving how Will began to shift from foot to foot. “Are you bringing him flowers too?”  
  
“Why? Are you jealous, Z?” All attention turned to the head of the behavioral science department as Jack Crawford entered the room, effectively bringing the joking to an abrupt halt. “I’m sure Dr. Lecter would love to know he’s gaining himself a fan club with the FBI’s forensic division.”  
  
“Aw, come on Jack, it’s just some harmless teasing. How often do you get to see Will all cleaned up?” Zeller defended even as he retreated. He ignored Beverly’s and Price’s smirks as he quickly returned to his workstation to hide behind trace evidence lest he face any real wrath from the agent.  
  
“How Will chooses to dress and his relationships outside of this office are nobody’s business but his own. So long as he’s catching killers, I don’t care if he’s dating a fish.” Jack stated with a certain firmness. Will read between the lines, knew that Jack giving him consent to do whatever he liked, ethical or no. As long as it kept him stable enough to catch him the Ripper, Jack was saying without stating it openly that he would not interfere. Will wasn’t sure whether he appreciated the unspoken permission or not. “Now tell me what you’ve got on the case.”  


_-_-_  
  
If he hadn’t felt ridiculous about it before, Will certainly did now, especially after his conversation with the science division. He glanced from the road to the bouquet of flowers sitting in his passenger seat, the bright colored blooms no longer seeming like the good idea he had envisioned when placing the order that morning.  
  
“He’s flirting with me.” Will reminded himself, gripping the steering wheel tighter as he pulled into the doctor’s driveway. “I’m just letting him know that I feel the same way. He’s flirting with me.”   
  
Unless he had imagined the kiss, it was a distinct possibility. Would it really be so farfetched for his overactive imagination to play tricks on him? To let him think that a casual brush was something more when he was obviously so starved for human attention?  
  
Eyes wide with worry, Will touched his shaved face, terror running through him as he stared over at the flowers, “What the hell am I doing, Hannibal is my friend.” he chided himself, looking at the suit in open dismay. He’d spent most of his morning sticking the material with tape to remove the numerous dog hairs that tenaciously clung to it. He had even ironed out the wrinkles that had gathered from lack of use.   
  
“And he’s unofficially my psychiatrist. What the hell am I thinking?” Will said, beginning to panic. He looked again from the flowers to his suit. “Is there even a way for me to explain this?”  
  
“Might I ask what it is you are trying to explain?” said the one person Will wanted to see most and not at all. The profiler jumped as Hannibal’s smoothly accented voice sounded through the crack in his driver’s side window. Will wanted to wrap his head around the steering wheel, knowing that Hannibal was standing right there, watching him spazz out. He certainly didn’t want to turn to meet his host‘s questioning look. Instead, Will focused on the bouquet in the seat next to him as though the flowers might disappear if he willed it to hard enough.   
  
“I see you picked up some flowers. Would you like to bring them inside and have me put them in some water until you can get them home? I’d hate for such a lovely bouquet to go to ruin waiting in your car.” Hannibal offered, providing a comfortable cover for the empath. He would let Will decide when he would reveal his true intentions, and it would do him no good to frighten poor Will away before he had a chance to ensnare him.  
  
Knowing he couldn’t live the rest of his life in his car parked at Hannibal’s house, Will tentatively picked up the flowers. Hannibal was amused to see Will lift the bouquet from the seat as though the blooms might bite him. Emerging from his car at long last, Will turning to face his host, looking as if he were about to be dragged out into the street and shot.   
  
“I do apologize if I startled you Will. I just noticed my missing paper from this morning had been thrown into one of the bushes. I decided to collect it when I found you here.” Hannibal smiled, lifting the newspaper in question that someone was not going to be tipped for. It wasn‘t a common occurrence so the paperboy would not be gracing his table.   
  
“Do you having something special planned for this evening after our lesson?” Hannibal asked, tilting his head ever so slightly to the side. The mannerism was all Hannibal’s own, his understated way of expressing curious interest. Will loved how often it pertained to him.   
   
“Uh…” Will tried to swallow, his mouth suddenly too dry to work properly as he tried to find the appropriate words. “They’re…”   
  
Will thought back to all the lingering touches, Hannibal’s insistence of dressing him in his apron and rolling up his sleeves, the way the man’s mouth had brushed against his jaw…  
  
And then Will remembered his own over active imagination and a skin hunger that was awakening in full force.  
  
“No, I have nothing planned.” Will managed out weakly yet still falling short.   The now familiar pressure of Hannibal’s hand on his lower back grounded Will despite his growing trepidation. He was being led into the house with bouquet being held loosely in hand, and Will was fine with that. Will found he was fine with Hannibal taking over for a moment while he collected himself.  
  
Pleased that Will hadn’t dressed himself for some other event, or for someone else that evening such as a date with the dismissive Alana Bloom, Hannibal allowed himself to appreciate the sight before him.  Admiring the apparel Will had selected for that night, Hannibal knew Will had kept his tastes in mind while dressing himself. He had even gone so far as to shave his face. The skin was irritated with the slightest blush of razor burn, Will obviously using a cheap disposable blade without any sort of moisturizer afterward. He had refrained from using his horrible aftershave though, something Hannibal was grateful for.   
  
Will had even gone so far as to adorn himself in a suit, as unfitted as the cheap polyester was. The poor representation of menswear did nothing favorable for Will’s slimming form. Hannibal noted from his place behind the empath that the pants hung too loose from his hips, missing the sharp curve of them entirely as the excess material bunched at the belt and dropped down like a sack around him. The shirt was worn in much the same way with too much fabric tucking into a lean waist, billowing out from a beautiful frame. The unnecessary weight loss had made Will far too slender for his formalwear.   
  
Not bothering to disappoint himself by analyzing the faults of the suit’s jacket, Hannibal took it by the shoulders to ease it down arms and off Will entirely. Despite all its sins against tailored material, it was folded neatly to hang over the back of a chair beside his own.   
  
“You have dressed yourself quite well for this evening for having no other plans but our own.” Hannibal couldn’t resist pointing out, a slight smile pulling at the corners of his lips. It was very apparent that Will had made the effort for him.  
  
“It’s nothing,” Will muttered, brushing off the compliment. Studying his sleeves, he refused to meet eyes with his host. For his inattentiveness, Hannibal was able to take the bouquet away from Will with ease.  
   
“I’m afraid I must disagree.” Hannibal said as he caught the profiler by the chin, forcing their gazes to meet for the first time. Stormy blue eyes flashed and danced skittishly as Will tried to discern what was happening between them, calm sanguine eyes giving him nothing back to go on. “You are striking this evening, and I will not allow such brilliance to be downplayed.”  
  
Will’s breath caught in his throat to rattle about there as a thumb traced the plush of his lower lip, the gesture more forward than the ones from previous nights. The feeling of intimacy was like being drugged to him as Hannibal‘s ever present calm seeping in under his skin, Will leaning into the touch despite himself.   
  
“I bought the flowers for you.” Will heard the words come out of his mouth before he could think better of it. As embarrassing at it was, it made Hannibal look away from him, freeing Will out from under those strange eyes. Will found he could breathe again while Hannibal studied the flowers with that intense gaze of his. Looking down at his shoes, Will found that he didn’t want to see Hannibal’s reaction to such an effeminate gift.   
  
“These are lovely,” Hannibal said after a moment, the compliment making Will feel weak in the knees. He needed to move to avoid falling over and making a fool of himself, so Will chose to dart toward the kitchen instead of responding. The bouquet would have been considered an odd mixture to those who didn’t know what they were looking at. Humble snowy white carnations were paired beside magnificent coral roses and exotic saffron crocus, almost startling in their vivid shade of luminescent purple. The array was rounded out by delicate white violets, looking almost fragile against the other blooms.  
  
“I can tell that you selected each blossom with intent.” Hannibal smiled at Will‘s back, following the profiler as he tried to escape. With Will’s eyes conveniently forward and having no other witness there, Hannibal allowed his fingers to trace over the soft petals of a coral colored rose.  
   
An alarm sounded in Will’s head, the man freezing in his examination of the ingredients that had been laid out in abundance for that night’s lesson. There was no way in hell Hannibal knew what he was trying to say with flowers. It was practically a dead art form that Will only knew about due to a book in a Southern aunt’s possession and too much time on his hands as a kid.   
  
“I’m sorry?” Will asked a baguette, hoping that he had misheard his host.  
  
“Each of these blossoms was selected with purpose.” Hannibal reiterated, allowing the profiler to hold his back to him for the time being so that he may examined the blossoms further at his leisure. Will seemed to be quite taken with his choice of bread for some reason.   
  
“I was unaware that you were familiar with the language of flowers.” Hannibal admitted his own mild surprise to the profiler’s insights. The sudden tension that painted itself between Will’s shoulder blades stated that he was just as surprised. Obviously, Will hadn’t counted on him knowing the language of flowers as well.   
  
“A good example would be the carnations you selected.” Hannibal explained, knowing it was unnecessary as he delighted in watching Will’s reactions as he went into detail about the invitation hidden within the bouquet. “They are white, a symbol for innocence and pure love.”   
  
Hannibal watched as a delicate shade of crimson began seep into Will’s ears, the color moving steadily downward to brightly paint his neck. “While the roses you selected,” he continued, taking slow steady steps around the kitchen island so that they could face one another. “Symbolize enchantment and desire.” He stopped in front of Will, waiting for the other man to meet his eyes.  
  
“T-they’re…just flowers,” Will stammered, cursing the florist as he tried to find reason behind the selection. Nothing came to mind. He refused to meet Hannibal’s intense gaze though the man was standing in front of him obviously wanting some kind of acknowledgment for his presence. Will worried that he might find disgust held within those earthen eyes that looked red in the right light.  
   
“You replaced the traditional baby’s breath with saffron blossoms and white violets.” Hannibal said quietly enough it made Will’s reluctant gaze rise at last to meet his own. “They are beautiful. What they are saying even more so.”  
  
“Let’s get this comedy of errors on my part over with then. What do the last two tell you?” Will managed out through a too tight throat. This backfire served him right for trying to be clever.  
  
“The saffron denoted mirth, though I am confused that they are being paired with the violets. Do you wish to take a chance with me, Will, to find some happiness together? Is this a sweet overture on your part or a friendly joke?” Hannibal teased.   
  
For once, Hannibal allowed Will to see the truth behind his words, and the pleasure he felt in receiving such an intimate gift of intention. Unable to form the words with his desert dry mouth Will nodded, his gaze falling back to the baguette on the table top.  
  
“I believe the answer to that is ‘yes’.” Will muttered, resuming the renewed interest in carbohydrates of French origin.  
  
“You’re nervous,” Hannibal observed, taking some mercy on Will to drop their met gazes so that he could place the blooms in an art deco inspired crystalline vase. Feeling triumphant in small victories though the war had yet to be won, Hannibal even went so far as to replace the table decoration he had set out beforehand with the new one provided.   
  
“I think that perhaps we should allow ourselves to indulge in a drink while we cook this evening.” Hannibal soothed, Will’s form taut and clearly ill at ease. Taking his time while retrieve two glasses to give Will some space, Hannibal made a show of pouring the last of the zinfandel Will had brought for him their first cooking lesson between the glasses. It was an unequal division, Hannibal allowing extra to flow into Will’s own.  
  
With a nod, Will accepted the drink, raising the glass to begin taking a generous mouthful of lush red wine before remembering himself. Cheeks dotting with renewed color, Will forced himself to take a painfully small sip instead. Despite the meager amount, the sharp taste of alcohol flooded his mouth, doing little to help alleviate its dryness.   
  
“Thank you.” Will mumbled into the crystal, his stomach turning with the worry of irreversible mistakes and actions he could not take back.   
  
“I don’t know what I was thinking when I picked up the flowers. I’m sorry for being so forward.” Will was able to manage out more words after a second sip, his tongue still feeling like sandpaper. Nervously, he watched as Hannibal sipped at his own glass of Lust, walking around the length of the counter to come stand behind him much as he had so many times before recently. Disrupted line of sight should have put Will as ease, not made the little hairs on the back of his neck stand on end.   
  
As Will touched the wineglass’s lip to his mouth to drain the vessel of its ruby liquid contents all in one go, there was nothing familiar about the hand that turned his face and caught his stained mouth. The gasp of surprise that parted his lips was taken full advantage of as the taste of black fruit, spice, and wine named after sin flooded his mouth. A clever tongue pushed past his lips to deepen the stolen kiss, dragging a moan from the empath before the contact was lost just as abruptly as it had been started. Will’s mouth swallowed air instead of a wine infused tongue, only tasting regret now in its absence. Hannibal’s hands on his shoulder kept Will in place though, preventing from turning toward the mouth he sought.   
  
“You never need to apologize for a gift, sweet William.” were the words spoken into his ear, made low and rough by Hannibal’s unique accent, the wording deliberate. They made Will freeze in place, Hannibal’s breath hot against his skin. “I will never reject you.”  
  
In the language of flowers, Sweet William meant ‘perfection’. Another kiss ghosted the hinge of his jaw, the smooth skin tingling from the sensation with his usual scruff gone.   
  
“What’s happening between us?” Will made himself ask even if it ruined the mood between them. He needed clarification, needed to know for sure what was going on. He was tired of guessing and shadow play. Dances in the dark were a sure fire way of tripping over one’s own feet.   
  
Instead of answering right away, Hannibal took Will’s empty wine glass out of his hand, moving over to the sink to hand wash the fine crystal with great care. It left Will to tremble like a leaf in the wind between the storm of despair and hope.  
  
“You expressed an interest, and I am reciprocating your feelings.” Hannibal said slowly. He glanced over at the profiler in time to catch a glimpse of embarrassment in those blue eyes before they were diverted away. “Does that bother you?”  
  
Feeling terribly exposed and looking it as well, Will was quiet a long moment, letting the question sit heavily in the air between them. Its duration extended long enough even Hannibal couldn‘t ignore its presence. “If I have misinterpreted your feelings…” Hannibal began to say, biting back a soft sigh.   
  
“I’m interested.” Will interrupted, throwing good manners to the wayside. For once, Hannibal found that he didn‘t mind the breach of etiquette.   
  
“But people don’t…” Will trailed off becoming lost in memories of Alana and an ill-fated kiss that should have never been. The rejection that had come afterward had cut him to his core.   
  
“…I’m broken goods.” Will finished, staring at the kitchen counter instead of the man he was addressing. Will wished he had more to offer, both verbally and relationship wise, but as always, found himself lacking.   
  
“Not broken.” Hannibal corrected gently, ending the space between them. He reached out to cup Will’s flushed face in broad cool hands. “You are different from your peers, true, but that does not mean you are broken.”  
  
“I’m unstable then. I…” Will tried to amend to find himself speaking into lips that fell upon his own. He was cut off but found himself glad for the interruption.   
  
“You are unique, just as I am. It is our differences that cause society to mark us as outcasts and force our solitude upon us. That does not make you broken Will, or unstable. It makes you exceptional.” Hannibal told him in all certainty, allowing himself to one last kiss before releasing Will entirely.   
  
 Hannibal found it rather easy to tie an apron around Will when he was in a state of shock, the good doctor continuing their new tradition by looping the string snugly around him before starting in on his shirt sleeves. Watching Hannibal through half lidded eyes, Will offered up all the resistance of a doll.   
  
“Like the Mona Lisa, you are a portrait of mysterious perfection. A masterpiece meant to be sought after and its meaning questioned by apprentices and critics alike. Altering yourself for other people would be like defacing art, similar to a novice attempting to correct Michelangelo’s brushstrokes on the Sistine Chapel. ” Hannibal said, catching Will’s shirt cuffs in hand next to continue their ritual as he neatly rolled the fabric up to sit snugly at the elbows  
  
Catching the stunned man in his arms for another kiss, something quick and chaste, Hannibal turned Will toward the counter, his hands settling low on the man’s lean hips not so innocently. Keeping Will close but facing away, Hannibal found that the profiler was temptation itself made flesh. Now that he had started kissing Will, Hannibal found he didn’t want to stop, already leaning in to graze his lips against the nape of Will’s neck.    
  
“Now, my statue of David.” Hannibal murmured against Will’s flesh, no longer bothering to hide the extent of his interest. “Let us begin dinner.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Your kudo's dance around the kitchen throwing flowers in the air, your comments say fuck that shit and drink lusty wine waiting for porn.


	4. Fourth Course

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We wrote more smut. Enjoy that. ;D

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last chapter, this chapter and the next chapter were all supposed to be one chapter…then we realized that it was getting to be ridiculously long and we needed to split it up…so…enjoy a read that’s less than 10,000 words. XD
> 
> We do not own Hannibal
> 
> Beta read by DarkmoonSigel

Back to the safety of nodding because words were really hard things to come by at the moment, Will stared down at the assortment of ingredients laid out before him. He found his hands falling upon the ones that gripped the sharp curvature of his hips instead of the provided produce and implements.   
  
“Dinner will consist of four courses this evening,” Hannibal continued to speak against his flesh, teeth skimming the sensitive skin there as his hands took hold of Will’s own,  bringing them to the counter. “The first course of the evening will be minced rabbit mixed with goji berry served on Brie cheese melted over a red pepper herbed crostino.”  
  
Trying to pull his mind away from the mouth that danced over his skin, Will attempted to focus on the assortment of ingredients and cooking tools before them. “Are we making the ground meat?” he asked. To equal amounts of relief and dismay, Hannibal parted from him to start moving around ingredients.  
  
“Not this evening.” Hannibal answered, placing two bowls in front of Will, “I already have a portion of rabbit seasoned and minced for us. I prepared the meat confit style so it should be quite supple to work with.”  
  
Staring down at the finely chopped meat, Will tried to ignore how Hannibal could say ‘supple’ with such a straight face and still make it sound so lewd.

Taking the baguette in hand, Hannibal began slicing the crusty loaf at an angle, creating beautiful ovals of evenness without even really trying. Will knew he wouldn’t be able to do that if there were a gun aimed at his head and his life depended on it.

  
“So, what am I doing with this while you work on the crostino?” Will asked, proud of himself for knowing that word, and even more so, for recognizing what Hannibal was making. It was the little victories in life after all. He turned his attention to the bowl of dried berries that he assumed were goji. To him, they looked like really bright red cranberries.

“I would like you to finely chop up the goji berries.” Hannibal asked, watching as Will picking up a knife in answer to start the task set out for him without any further prompting. “Goji has a natural spice to it that is sweetly tart. Some might compare it to a cranberry, but I find its flavor lies more between strawberry and raspberry.”   
  
Will cooking in his kitchen was a beautiful sight to behold in Hannibal‘s opinion, one he delighted in knowing he would be privileged to observe  again and again. By the time he was done, Will would be preparing the select rude right alongside him. Like a performance piece, they would move in harmony and growing confidence with one another in his grand kitchen as they orchestrated a magnificent feast together.  
   
At some point, Hannibal knew he would have to show off his apprentice’s growing skills with a banquet once Will mastered a little bit more of the crafts in and out of the kitchen. Presenting Will before he was ready would be detrimental. The empath hid far too many of his attributes out of shame and fear of judgment as it was. Hannibal could see no reason to add another terror to that repertoire.

  
  
“Should I just mix it all together?” Will asked, skin still flushed and eyes averted as he focused on the meal ahead of them.

“You can mix them together once you have finished with the goji. We need the flavor to spread evenly throughout.” Hannibal answered, brushing his baguette slices with seasoned oil before sliding them into the oven. He was already fully assembling the appetizer and its timing with everything else in his mind. After the base was ready, the brie cheese would be layered on and placed back it the oven just long enough to melt it. It would be finished with the meat and goji mixture with just a graceful drizzle of lemon poppy seed oil. “The crostino will be ready shortly.”   
  
Appetizer completion envisioned in mind, Hannibal turned just in time to watch Will mush all the ingredients together like a child with cookie dough. Instead of lightly mixing the rabbit and berry together so that everything was present but could still be tasted individually, Will squashed the brie cheese into the meat and dried fruit. It was a small torture to behold and Hannibal knew he only had himself to blame for it. As novice as Will was, he should have realized the man wouldn’t know the difference between the terms mix and blend. He had also taken the intuitive to add the cheese all on his own.   
  
Chiding himself, Hannibal turned his full attention back to the present. His version of culinary suave Will would become reality soon enough. Rushing it would only lead to mishaps and misunderstandings. He would just have to be patient. Until then, mistakes would be made. Of course, he would have to intervene now if they wanted something edible, but Hannibal knew he had to preserve Will’s sense of pride while doing so. It was important that the budding cook feel pride for his contribution. With all Will’s flustered nervousness about their lessons, that was far more important than the dish itself.  
  
“I’m doing this wrong.” Will said as soon as he glanced up at Hannibal‘s face much to the older man‘s chagrin who knew his mask was still perfectly in place. Will was just getting better at looking through the cracks, and should not be underestimated.  
  
Cursing quietly in his head, Hannibal watched in dismay as Will stepped away from his creation, regaining that lost look that Hannibal hoped he would eventually never see again. The empath was no doubt berating himself about ruining the mix further with his attempts. Not one to turn down an advantageous opportunity though, Hannibal revaluated the situation, quickly setting a timer for the toasting bread so that he could join Will.   
  
“It is entirely my own fault. I should have been more clear.” Hannibal easily took the blame, taking Will’s hands in his own in an open gesture of comfort. The empath’s skin was warmer than it had been before, flushed more so with embarrassment than arousal. Hannibal aimed to change that, only wanted Will to feel the latter of the two.   
  
“You were trying to mix this as though it were a cake. You should have added the dried goji to the meat, and tossed it together just enough to mingle the flavors, not overwhelm each other.” Hannibal explained, carefully stroking Will’s fingers with his own to alleviate some of the hurt he knew his words would bring, intentional or not. “The Brie was meant to be left separate from it. It is a very mild cheese that pairs well with other ingredients, but its own flavor can get lost.”  
  
“Did I ruin it?” Will asked hesitantly, his eyes following the new paths Hannibal’s fingers were drawing into his life lines.  
  
“Calm yourself. All is not lost.” Hannibal told him, leaving off the empath’s hands so that he could touch Will’s chin to tip the man’s head back. He needed to show Will that he was not angry or annoyed. If anything, Hannibal felt amused.   
  
“Sorry.” Will muttered, shifting his eyes to the side so he wouldn’t have to look at Hannibal who was having none of that nonsense. He leaned in close enough to touch their foreheads together, leaving Will no choice but to look straight at him or rudely close his eyes. To Hannibal’s delight, his gaze were met.  
  
“Will, you are still learning.” Hannibal told him sternly. As a reward for the eye contact, he let his lips press against Will‘s own to soften his tone. “Errors are to be expected, and minor ones are not worth apologizing for.”   
  
They were interrupted by the timer, Hannibal never having cause to curse the existence of crostinis before until now. Pressing one last kiss to Will’s lips, Hannibal let him go to return his attention back to the oven and the toasting goods inside. He wanted to make sure at least one part of their first course turned out as it should as he pulled the tray of small golden rounds out to cool on the marble countertop.   
  
“Let us not forget that necessity is the mother of invention. Now is a good a time as any to show you a few tricks.” Hannibal said as he retrieved a food processor. Putting the contents of Will’s folly into it, he blended the mixture smoothly together, much to Will’s look of horror.  
  
“What are you doing?” Will asked cautiously, thrown for a loop. He thought mixing the things together was bad.  
  
“We can not leave this lingering on the precipice. Think of it as a shove in a direction of our choosing. We can not undo what has been done so we shall free it from limbo for advancement to the next level.” Hannibal said, scraping the blended mixture into a pastry bag with a star tip. With a practiced roll of his hands and wrists, the crostinis were soon topped with some stylized fluffy pâté before being transferred to their designated plating. The appetizer was finished off with some baby arugala and endive, and a graceful smattering of lemon poppy seed oil for garnish.   
   
“So if you’re going through Hell, keep going?” Will said warily as he admired Hannibal’s creativity. The man had just turned a lost cause into something appetizing. Hell, it even looked pretty, the green of the vegetation and the gold of the oil contrasting nicely with the pink meat mousse and the red pepper speckled toast.  
  
“A little overdramatic, but yes.” Hannibal chuckled, catching Will at his waist to direct them toward their next course’s preparations. Letting his hands linger longer than they should have, Hannibal knew that Will needed a boost to his waning confidence. “We shall begin the second course.”  
  
“And what’s that?” Will asked, wanting to dig his heels in so that he could turn and run. Hannibal’s hold upon him dissuaded him of this notion though, Will letting himself be led to the range.  
  
“Our second course will be a wild mushroom soup with sherry and thyme.” Hannibal answered, standing behind Will to make him add butter, oil and diced Vidalia onions to a large pot. All Will could do was watch as he was being made a puppet by a master working with his element. He found he didn‘t mind with Hannibal pressed flush to his back, their bodies moving in tandem with one another. It was almost like dancing.  
  
“Or making love.” Will‘s treacherous mind voiced, making his cheeks grow hot and red with sudden color. Will was grateful that Hannibal couldn‘t see his face or was in the position to notice the discomfiture of Will‘s front.   
  
“The soup is not an overly complicated recipe…” Hannibal explained, pausing to touch his nose to Will‘s dark curls. He knew the empath would curl up and die if he knew that Hannibal‘s nose was keen enough to scent arousal. It was coming off of Will in waves, smelling better than any cologne Hannibal could have picked out for him. “…But timing is key for each ingredient.”   
  
Leaning over Will’s shoulder as everything began to cook and simmer, Hannibal couldn’t resist pressing his cheek to Will’s own as he continued to explain. He loved the heat coming off of it.   
  
“The onion needs to simmer in the butter and oil until it begins to turn clear and brown. When that occurs, usually taking about four minutes, we shall then add the garlic, like so.” Hannibal said, tipping a small dish of finely minced cloves into the pot as he swayed them gently in place. “It mixes with the onion for another minute, and then we will add the mushrooms, thyme, salt and pepper for another four minutes.”  
  
Just as Will was beginning to relax into Hannibal’s body, the chef stepped away to leave him there with his back cooling to the open air. A sense of panic creeping in on Will when he realized that he had been left in charge of the time sensitive dish. Hannibal busied himself with his own task by selecting a pan to place a beautiful looking tenderloin into it, soon rejoining Will at the range to stand side by side with him a moment later.   
  
“If you leave me with this soup, I will ruin it.” Will warned with a tone that sounded far calmer than he currently felt.   
  
“Nonsense. You are doing fine on your own.” Hannibal soothed, pressing a kiss to the tense profiler’s temple as he began to sear the tenderloin.   
  
“It is time to add the mushrooms. We are using a blend of cremini and shitake.” Hannibal instructed much to Will‘s relief, using his tongs to indicate a bowl of sliced pale fungi to his right. “I hope you don’t mind. I took the liberty of preparing most of our ingredients before you arrived. We have a large meal planned for this evening, and you have already proven you’re more than capable with a knife.”   
  
“We used cremini the other night, didn’t we?” Will asked, examining the mushrooms before pouring them into the pan. The one of the names rang a bell, making Will think back to the fish they had enjoyed yesterday. That dinner had been quick and easy, and he’d even managed to impress Hannibal while cooking it. He wondered if the doctor would appreciate something fresh and local. Maybe a fish from the river that ran by his house or some of the small game like pheasant or rabbit.  
  
“Yes, we used the cremini in the meunière sauce.” Hannibal said as he indicated a second small dish, making Will wonder just how many tiny bowls Hannibal had for keeping small measurements of spices in while cooking. “The thyme, salt, and pepper can be added with the mushrooms.”   
  
Quickly followed the command, Will stirred the spices into the simmering dish.   
  
“In two more minutes, I want you to add the broth.” Hannibal said, not bothering to look up as he removed the tenderloin from the pan to roll the beef in a shallow plate, coating it with something Will didn’t recognize. Will watched as Hannibal placed the encrusted meat into a small roasting pan before depositing it in the oven.   
  
“What’s that?” Will asked, adding the broth as Hannibal changed out to a fresh pan and began what looked like a sauce of some sort.  
  
“I am preparing a porcini mushroom encrusted tenderloin. It will be served with a bing cherry burgundy sauce, and accompanied by hasselback potatoes as a side. I am preparing the sauce now.”   
  
Glancing from his pan to the soup pot, he reduced the heat to a simmer. Leading Will back to the counter when he was down, Hannibal laid out two potatoes and a knife in front of Will on a cutting board.  
  
“While the soup simmers, you can prepare the tenderloin’s side.” Hannibal said in answer to Will’s questioning look.   
  
“Why are we making so much?” Will asked, letting his hands be directed in the proper slicing of the tubers.  before the heady sensation of the doctor’s hands on his own was once again lost in favor of the simmering sauce pan.  
  
“Because tonight we are celebrating,” Hannibal answered, his tone light but sly around the edges.  
  
“What are we celebrating?” Will asked in surprise before he thought better of it. He sincerely hoped it wasn’t Hannibal’s birthday.  
  
“You. We are celebrating you.” Hannibal said simply, smoldering maroon eyes turning to meet skittish blue to enjoy the complex look that played out through them. “And now we can extend that celebration to one of us.”   
  
Safely leaving the sauce to simmer for a time, Hannibal tugged at the nervous profiler until he was securely held within his arms. Letting his hands find the small of Will’s back to hold the man close against him, Hannibal brought their lips together again. Achingly slow and gentle this time until he felt Will open up to him, a curious tongue darting forward to find his own and mingle with it.  
  
Knife still in hand, Will wrapped his arms around Hannibal’s neck, leaning into the kiss and deepening it. It was so easy to lose himself in the doctor, to let the stronger man take the lead, and guide him as they kissed and moved against one another. Will moaned when a leg pushed between his own, a firm thigh pressing up against his sex, making it stir in response.  
  
“Hannibal.” Will rasped out the man’s name against thin lips that were softer than they looked, tightening his hold as he forgot about his hunger for food. An awakening appetite for skin tempted him to slid the blade of the knife down the back of the doctor’s shirt and cut it from his body. It would be so simple to do, to slide the cool steel blade under expensive cotton and pull, letting the shredded material fall to the floor to reveal the toned muscle hidden beneath, the ones he kept feeling shifting against him. He could imagine it as easily as the pendulum’s swing, taut honed muscles that showed off the sharp angles of a lean body, the thin layer of silvering hair that graced a broad chest leading a trail downward to ….  
  
“You’re very excited, sweet William.” were the words that disrupted Will’s fantasy. It was a swift reminder that reality was aligning itself with the imaginings of his mind, so perhaps he should pay attention. Will found his head was tilted back as a hand that was not his own palmed his ’excitement’ though the tightening fabric of his pants.  
  
 “What should be done about that?” Hannibal asked, his teeth nipping at the sensitive flesh of Will’s collarbone. The question left Will mute for a moment, too many answers rushing forward to the forefront to tangle up his tongue.  
  
Before Will could answer intelligibly, the sound of a timer pulled them back into the here and now, reminding the pair that they were in a kitchen and a feast was being constructed around them.   
  
“A question to be answered later then.” Hannibal deemed, letting his fingers measure the girth of the swelling sex between them before releasing the empath entirely from his hold to begin another step with the soup. If not for the slight smile on his face and bulge in his front, Will would have said that Hannibal looked as if he were entirely unaffected by what was happening between them.   
  
Holding the lip of the counter to stop his knees from giving out beneath him, Will fought to find an answer to a very irregular social dilemma. What do you do when your not-quite-therapist, not-quite-boyfriend arouses you in the kitchen during a cooking lesson?  
  
Steadying his breath, the answer came to him in the form of the said not-quite-anything person of interest untying Will’s apron and dropping elegantly to his knees. Whatever Hannibal needed to do with the soup had been handled and the potatoes forgotten for now as Hannibal busied himself with the newest task at hand. Palming Will’s growing erection as he went, his focus was as dedicated to lowering the empath’s pants to examine his waking flesh as he had been in the preparation of the delicate sauce.   
  
Will’s cock twitched as he watched sanguine eyes alight with a hunger he was all too familiar with as they examined the feast before them. A broad tongue flicking a weeping head to linger over the slit, making Will’s head reel and his knees buckle as his precum was so delicately sampled. It must have passed whatever standards had been set to it for powerful hands caught Will by his hips.  They helped to keep Will up as he steadied himself. He found that he needed all the help he could get, tightening his grip on the counter as hot breath continued to ghost over his swelling length.   
  
“Careful.” Hannibal mouthed into the meat with just the hint of teeth. Will didn’t how he made a concerned warnings sound so filthy, that skilled tongue finding his tip again. The slick muscle circled his bulbous tip to gather another pearlescent drop, swallowing it down before making care sound like lewdness again “I’d hate for you to fall.”  
  
Will tightened his grip upon the counter to make his knuckles bleach when Hannibal’s tongue slid down his cock’s underside to lave attention to the sensitive skin of his balls. Choking on air that didn’t know if it was coming or going, Will watched with mouth agape as Hannibal pulled in the loose skin of his pouch with his lips to work it over carefully with his teeth and soften it with his tongue.   
  
Air left like it was punched out of Will’s lungs when Hannibal left off his tasting to swallow him completely down from tip to root, opening his throat to accommodate his sizable mouthful.   
  
Gasped desperately in an attempt to keep breathing, a hand left the counter to tangle in lengths of ashen hair, seeking an anchor of some sort.  Will had not been prepared for this, the painfully slow administrations of Hannibal’s handling.   
  
A lifetime of disappointment left the empath expecting very little good to occur within his life, especially when in regard to relationships with other people. At best, he had hoped for a date with Hannibal that wasn‘t too horribly awkward. At the worst, a polite rejection followed by a referral to another therapist. The image of Hannibal on his knees with his cock in mouth, swallowing him down to make him to make him cry out and buck, had not crossed Will’s mind.  
  
With a surprisingly firm grip, Hannibal kept Will’s hips at a standstill, making the man above him cry out at the loss of movement as hands prevented from pushing into the warm mouth that surrounded him.  
With a tortuously slow rhythm, Hannibal bobbed his head as he worked Will’s dick with the gentle motions. Letting his teeth gently graze the sensitive skin of his member as he traveled upward to make the empath jump, Hannibal swept his tongue over his slit. Keeping that sensitive tip in his mouth, Hannibal hollowed out his cheeks, receiving another tormented cry before sinking back down to take in all of Will again.  
  
“Ha-Hann.” Will stammered out. It was all the warning Will could manage before the growing pressure down below became too much. Mounting pleasure made low things in Will’s body tighten and convulse. When Hannibal started to hum, it sounded the beginning to Will‘s end, his orgasm forced from him in such a rush it left him dizzy and disorientated.   
  
His senses muffled in the whitened film of bliss, Will was aware enough to feel Hannibal greedily swallowing his spent down, every drop of his essence milked out of his shaft. In a haze, Will watched Hannibal lick his cock clean, making him shudder as the oversensitive skin was suckled, before Hannibal tucked him neatly back inside his pants.  
  
Still licking his lips as he rose to his feet, Hannibal wore the superior look of a cat with stolen cream, his satisfaction a tangible thing to Will.  A kiss was pressed to slack lips from the smug predator, Will tasting himself on Hannibal’s tongue like strange brine.  
  
Will staggered when he was released suddenly, the profiler barely managing to catch himself on the counter in time. He watched as Hannibal retrieved a fresh apron to once again tie it around Will’s waist for him. The only sign of their explicit activities were Hannibal’s ruffled hair, the silvering locks pushed attractively forward.   
  
Cat having stolen his tongue, Will stare back at Hannibal wide eyed, unsure of how to proceed now that this sort of thing had happened. He didn’t want to misstep yet he definitely wanted to reciprocate. Will knew it wasn’t his decision to make though, not the way Hannibal was looking at him. Not when Hannibal leaned in close to overwhelm his personal space again and make his head light, purring words into his ear.   
  
“Are you ready to resume dinner?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Your kudo’s are tasting the appetizers that your comments are blending together and the authors are getting drunk on expensive wine~<3


	5. Fifth Course

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dinner is served.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author Notes: Eat your dinner.
> 
> We do not own Hannibal.
> 
> Beta read by DarkmoonSigel

“Are you ready to resume dinner?”

Weak kneed with pleasure, Will licked his lips and nodded, unsure of what to say. He made sure he was balanced enough to support himself though before stepping away from the counter to stare foggily down at the sliced up potatoes. Hannibal purring senseless words at him certainly wasn’t helping with any sort of recovery.

“When you are ready, I want you to thoroughly rinse the potatoes to remove any excess starch, and then cover them in oil.” Hannibal instructed, washing his hands. Will’s confusion was a beautiful thing to experience firsthand. As much as he wanted to lick the taste of Will‘s musk and salt off of his fingers, Hannibal strove to keep the profiler off balance by acting like everything was normal. “Be sure you spread out the oil evenly between the slices, otherwise they will not separate properly.”

Satisfied with the soup and his sauce‘s progression, Hannibal dropped the heat down to keep them to temperature. “Then place them in a pan so that they may join the tenderloin in the oven.” he said in such a casual manner it made Will’s back teeth grind together. It was almost enough to make Will question his reality. Maybe he had just lost time and imagined a blowjob…

Forcing his mind back to the food to avoid traveling down a rabbit hole, Will followed the instructions with careful concentration. He fought to keep himself focused on the potatoes, and not on the man standing behind him. He didn’t want to break apart the thin delicate slivers he had carved in the tubers. Placing the oiled potatoes into the pan, Will watched Hannibal whisk it away to join the rest of their entree in the oven.

“Now we may partake in the fruits of our labor.” Hannibal smiled, removing his own apron. Feeling generous with the taste of Will still in his mouth, Hannibal gave the confused man a chance to undress himself for a change.

“Aren’t we still cooking?” Will ventured, feeling it was safer for his gaze to settle on the oven instead of on Hannibal. Following his example, Will quickly took off his apron to have it taken from him by his host who neatly folded it for him. Belated, Will realized he must not have been moving quickly enough. Invading his personal space once again, Hannibal was there all too soon to assist him, rolling down Will’s cuffs for him, and helping the man slide into his atrocious suit jacket.

“It is all about timing, my dear Will. By the time we finish our appetizer, the tenderloin will be ready to come out of the oven. We will enjoy our soup while it cools. Upon finishing our second course, our tenderloin will be the perfect temperature for consumption, and the potatoes succulent and crisp.”

Before Will knew what was going on, he was being seated at the dinner table with Hannibal pushing in the chair behind him. “What about dessert?” he asked, furrowing his brow to argue the issue with his water glass. “You mentioned four courses tonight.”

“Yes, the panna cotta.” Hannibal answered as he carried over a pair of wine glasses and the first of their courses.

“It is an Italian dessert that is gelatin based which needs a number of hours to set. I’m afraid I made our dessert this morning along with the rabbit. In light of your gift though, I feel that a few of the toppings may have to be changed from what I originally planned.” Hannibal said. He glanced over at the flowers with a pointed look before serving the appetizers to watch Will blush in his peripheral.

“So we begin our evening with some lovely red pepper and herb encrusted crostinos topped with an airy pâté made of seasoned rabbit, brie cheese, and goji berries.” Hannibal reiterated. Will watched Hannibal as he closed his eyes and lifted his wine glass to his nose, sampling the pale golden liquid’s fragrance before tasting it.

“Paired with a glass of Gewürztraminer and prepared by you.” Hannibal breathed out. Looking perfectly content with the food and wine pairing, he turned his attention back to Will who was watching his play of fingers over the wine glass’s stem instead of his eyes.

“You did most of the work on this, pulling it back from the brink and all.” Will corrected, sampling the crunchy d'oeuvre. He smiled around the bit of food, before tasting his own wine to find it complemented well even with his undeveloped palette. “But this is really good.”

“You did just as much of the work this evening as I did. I simply did more of the prep work beforehand than on previous nights.” Hannibal soothed, though he did not deny saving the tasty treat from a dreadful fate of having lumpy texture and ill blended flavors. “You are still learning, Will. As you become more confident in the kitchen, I will leave more and more of the cooking in your capable hands. There will come an evening when I am the one who stands behind the island and watches you cook.”

If he had his way anytime soon, Hannibal would be observing Will’s abilities with a bone saw as well. He had a feeling that Will would be good with power tools and the finer points of body disposal.

“That could take a long time.“ Will smiled crookedly, offering an awkward laugh that sounded weird even to him. Will made himself take another drink of his wine to steady himself, mind still reeling from their arrangement, this conversation, and everything else that had happened in between.

“I certainly hope that it does.” Hannibal murmured, letting his fingers slid along the stem of his wine glass in a rather suggestive manner. “I’ve been enjoying my evenings in your company, and I look forward to many more.”

Lost for words, Will felt relieved when his plate was gathered up and whisked away to the kitchen, an internal alarm obviously telling the doctor that it was time he removed the meat from the oven. Given his moment of privacy, Will hastily swallowed down the last of his wine, hoping to find so courage at the bottom. He jumped when the empty glass was whisked away by quick hands to be replaced by another, the new wine glass more rounded in it bulb to accommodate the properties of the bright red wine within.

“Sip this one, Will. It is wine, not whiskey.” Hannibal said, letting his lips graze the shell of a reddening ear to nip at its warm edge. It made Will squeak and turn around him his chair to find his tormenter already disappearing again back into the kitchen.

“Also created by you, our second dish is a wild mushroom soup with sherry and thyme accented with a drizzle of white truffle oil and bacon. It’s accompanied by a young but exciting Pinot Noir from Marlborough.” Hannibal explained when he soon returned with some stylish bowls in hand.

“You’re really giving credit where none is due.” Will tried to correct. He received a secondary nip for his troubles as the doctor leaned over his shoulder to place a bowl down, catching Will’s ear neatly between his teeth.

“You have been of great assistance to me this evening in preparing a grand meal. Do not downplay your contributions. It not only insults you, but me as well.” Hannibal said in a more stern tone than before, enough so that Will carefully kept his eyes on his soup.

Touching his ear, Will decided that perhaps he would save his flesh from future abuse and hold his tongue. Instead of commenting further, Will examined the artistic swirls of gold against the pale soup, dusted with the rustic red dots of bacon decorating its surface. It was a simple touch made by a flick of the wrist and some crumbling, but the effect of it seemed to elevate the dish to something found in five star restaurants.

Not that Will would expect to find anything less coming from Hannibal’s kitchen, but he was pretty damn positive that his greatest contribution to this particular dish was a little stirring. That was mainly due to his attentions being turned elsewhere during its main preparation. Will was socially aware enough to realize that popping chub at the dinner table was not seen as good manners so he held his tongue, thought about baseball and dead kittens, and busied himself tasting the thick broth.

“This is delicious.” Will admitted to his own surprise. He had somewhat lost his appetite for mushrooms after seeing them being grown row on row from bodies.

“No matter how many times I feed you, you always seem surprised to try something from my kitchen and find it tastes good. Why is that?” Hannibal asked, sipping his wine to let the flavors mingle together on his palette.

“Comparatively, most things you eat on a regular basis are strange to me. I eat fish I catch at least twice a week, and I can’t tell you how often I eat something instant.” Will shrugged, leaving the ‘when he remembered to eat at all‘ left unsaid. His ill fitting clothing spoke enough about that for him.

“With all this rich food and new flavors, I don’t recognize most of what you put in front of me.” Will continued to answer in all honesty, knowing that Hannibal would appreciate him being so open.

“In that case, I am grateful to you for allowing me the chance to broaden your palette.” Hannibal said in a thoughtful sort of tone as he gathered up the dishes. Before Will could get a good read on him, Hannibal disappeared into the kitchen once more, the sounds of quick preparation heard as he carved up the tenderloin and dressed potatoes.

Leaving his place at the table, Will followed after his host and teacher, coming to stand behind the man as he crumbled blue cheese over the fanned slivers of steaming potatoes. The expensive cheese melted with the residual heat so that it pooled in the potato, promising cheesy perfection coating every bite.

“Feeling the need to observe final presentation?” Hannibal asked, enjoying being the focus of Will’s acute attention. The man’s blue grey gaze were set on his hands, watching him create a masterpiece on each plate.

“If I’m learning, shouldn’t I be present during all stages of preparation?” Will asked, studying how the plates were being meticulously arranged. All that was left to do was add the garnishing sauces.

“Of course, you are absolutely correct. What was I thinking?” Hannibal chuckled, pleased with Will’s observation as he stepped just to the side, motioning Will forward. “You should be partaking in the final presentation as well. Please decorate our plates with a delicate ring of burgundy sauce around the medallions.”

“I’m not steady enough for that. It’ll get over everything.” Will said, looking down in dismay in regard to the pan of thick crimson sauce and his own hands. He had only meant to observe, not construct. Will fleetingly wondered if he was being mocked.

“If your hands are steady enough to make a fishing lure, I believe that they are steady enough to make a ring of sauce.” Hannibal countered easily, placing a hand to Will’s hip in the hopes of soothing the distressed empath. He could smell the sharp sourness of stress starting to integrate itself into the sweeter scents of arousal coming off of Will. It was something he wanted to avoid, the odor of it making his nose prickle. “Relax Will, we are cooking, creating art together. There are no mistakes that cannot be fixed within my kitchen.”

Feeling the slight tension of muscle beneath his hand relax or at least try to, Hannibal watched Will reach for the spoon. “Take the pan with you to the food. You will find it easier to control with less drips if you bring it with you.” he said, keeping his voice even and low. Will seemed to respond best to that sort of tone. To Hannibal’s inner delight, Will obediently did as he was told, just as he’d been doing all week. “Good, now create your design in one fluid motion.”

Spilling several small drips of glossy red along the plate’s edge, Will circled the first cutlet and then the second, cursing himself quietly for his errors.

Before a word about it could leave his lips, the corner of a towel wiped mishap cleanly away.

“Perfect.” Hannibal complimented, pressing a kiss to his jaw to make the bare skin there tingle. Hannibal moved away from him before Will could comment or reciprocate though, the tease leaving Will’s side to fiddle with wine. New glasses were brought forth, their bounty a far richer red than the Pinot Noir had been.

“Now we may dine on the entrée.” Hannibal said, leaving Will to handle the dishes after making that announcement.

“At some point in between being a surgeon and a therapist, were you a cook?” Will asked, finding to his surprise that he was the one initiating the conversation for once. An honest curiosity coaxed the question from him as he followed closely behind with plates in hand. Setting them neatly down, Will retook his seat.

“No, I’m afraid I only prepare meals for myself and the company I choose to keep.” Hannibal answered, watching as Will tasted the fruit of their labors. He already knew that the succulent meat of the pushy grocer would melt on the tongue, but he wanted to take in every aspect of Will‘s reaction.

Will took his time eating for once, allowing the flavors to settle over his tongue before letting the wine have its way with them. It was a long moment held between them before he could venture his next question, “Any professional schooling?” he asked, finding it hard to imagine someone becoming this skilled at home.

“As you know I was the proverbial orphan until I was adopted by my uncle Robertus. I gained a certain appreciation for food thanks to him and his wife’s influence. I only really started to pursue an interest in creating dishes on my own while I was in medical school. I had to leave my home in Europe to study at John Hopkins, so it was a great comfort to me to do my own research on the matter. Like you, I had to learn through trail by error and testing out recipes. I studied cooking books right along side my medical tomes.” Hannibal told Will without giving away too much. He couldn’t resist dropping a few hints here and there though.

“That’s incredible. I don’t think I could manage your level of skill and dedication even if I’d spent half a decade in culinary school.” Will said, all but moaning around another mouthful of meat. It was further proof to Hannibal that the grocer was serving a far greater purpose in death than he ever had selling spoiled produce in life.

“I am passionate about cooking. It is that passion which has driven me to perfecting it.” Something about Hannibal’s tone made Will glance up from his plate and over at his host. Swallowing hard, Will found Hannibal’s gaze settled on the bouquet of fragrant and meaningful flowers, a curl turning up his thin lips as thoughts reflecting about those flowers meanings danced behind his eyes.

“There are many things within my life I have pursued with that same passion.” Hannibal added, reaching out to touch the delicate blooms. He pulled a pair of silken petals from the coral roses to press them to his lips, the action of it almost like an indirect kiss.

“Is subtlety an art, Doctor Lecter?” Will asked. The question came out more flat than he would have liked. Uncertainty was robbing him of his courage and conversational skill. Will distracted himself by gathering up the empty plates from the table.

“It can be. It depends on who is performing it and for whom. Are you assuming that I am trying to be subtle?” Hannibal smiled into the petals, allowing someone else clear away the mess for once. He was confident in Will’s abilities to rinse off plates and load the dishwasher how he liked it.

While Will was busy with that task, Hannibal returned to the kitchen to decorate their final course with chocolate ganache and strawberries carved into roses. He filled a pair of champagne flutes with Rosa Regala, a sparkling wine that was a stunning shade of cranberry in color. It tasted even better, light and sweet on the tongue.

“I might have inferred that.” Will said, nervously licking his lips as memories of Hannibal’s lips wrapped around his cock came into play. He could already feel his neck and ears beginning to warm up to uncomfortable levels, knowing that he was turning red around his edges.

“I don’t believe I have been subtle this evening.” Hannibal countered, the playful edge to his voice letting Will know that he had noticed the empath‘s blush. Dessert and wine were gathered up gracefully in hand, Hannibal more than ready to end this course so that they could move on to bigger and better things. One hunger had been filled. It was time to appease another. “If I recall correctly, I’ve actually been quite forward about my intentions in regard to you.”

“You started it by playing with the flowers.” Will fumbled for words. He had wanted Hannibal to be less opaque, and now that he was, Will didn‘t know what to do with himself. All he could manage to do was follow and hope that Hannibal was not leading him astray with false hope. “Talking about passion…”

Retaking his seat, Will found a single coral petal balanced atop the panna cotta like a strange flame. It was an invitation, a statement, and a declaration all in one. He looked up to meet Hannibal’s strange eye, pitted glossy and dark with lust. Will left himself fall forward into that look, his mind opening up to any possibility presented to it from this point on.

“That was not an attempt at being subtle. Neither is this.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Your kudo’s are shoveling down dessert because they want to get to the good part, your comments are contemplating if its rude to skip it in favor of stealing Hannibal’s pants and the authors are sipping a glass of Zinfandel Lust debating whether the readers deserve more porn or not.


	6. Sixth Course

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will says fuck it to dessert~<3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For all of you who have been patiently waiting for it, we present to you, the sex.
> 
> We do not own Hannibal.
> 
> Beta read by DarkmoonSigel.

“I don’t want dessert.”  
  
Thrown off by the flatly spoken words, Hannibal looked over in surprise at Will in time to see the man pluck the coral petal from his plate to press it to his lips. “At the risk of sounding terribly rude, I’d like to skip this course.” he said, lifting his usually fleeting gaze to meet sanguine eyes that seemed to glow within from the flickering candlelight. Hannibal appreciated Will’s rare show of forwardness, and as a reward for it, he let himself be read by the empath. There was desire in those eyes that glittered too red in the low light, raw and feral, and being unguardedly directed at him.   
  
“Forgive me. It is never my intention to overfeed my guest.” Hannibal said smoothly as he exited his chair in a single fluid movement to walk around the table. Rising from his own seat, Will never broke line of sight with Hannibal as the lion in the room stalked its prey. Humble prey turning predator, Will taunted the man coming to meet him by placing the velvety petal on his tongue like it were holy communion in hopes of receiving an obscene benediction .   
  
“You didn’t overfeed me, Hannibal. You’re starving me.” Will murmured almost accusingly, leaning enough into Hannibal’s space to have their lips graze each other in a dry brush of flesh as he breathed out the words. “You have left me wanting, and now I need you to feed me.”   
  
Then hands were upon Will, Hannibal pulling the skilled profiler in close to meet him in a bruising kiss. The pain and pressure of teeth cutting into his flesh and lips overlapping his own felt like salvation in a way. Will’s overactive mind was already drawing unbidden comparisons to other affairs, few and far between as they were. Will found there was no rejection in the way Hannibal’s tongue pushed past his lips, and mapped out his mouth with the slick muscle as hands lost themselves in his dark curls.   
  
As Hannibal walked them toward the stairs and the pair stumbled up the incline blinded  and bound by desire, Will realized there would be no half-hearted concession to try again after he got ‘better‘, like being broken like this was a choice. Will knew he wasn’t going to be led on with false promises and good intentions as he was kissed within an inch of his life into a bedroom, and pushed onto a large bed covered in rich jewel toned colors far softer than his own. Hannibal wanted him. He hadn’t lied. He wasn’t changing his mind. This was going to happen.  
  
And Will had never wanted anything so badly before in his life.  
  
“Hannibal.” Will moaned the name as quick, steady fingers worked the buttons of his oversized shirt open, revealing inch after inch of creamy skin and too prominent ribs.  
Pulling back from the needy profiler, Hannibal drank in the sight of the body revealed beneath him. Sliding cool hands over flushed skin, he pushed the cheap fabric back, watching how Will’s chest rose and fell with the ragged breaths of arousal. Thumbs brushed over sensitive skin causing nipples to peak, making Will shiver from the unfamiliar sensation.   
  
“Skin starved.” Hannibal reminded himself as Will arched into his touch, his breath hitching as hands ghosted over his arms to remove the last of his shirt before letting the cheap fabric fall to the floor. It had served its purpose. Hannibal would see it burned before it was ever allowed to grace Will’s body again.    
  
Will was skin starved. Hannibal could feel his sex swell at the thought of that need, the allure of it. In the throes of that addiction, Will could be driven to points of madness by the heat and contact of another’s flesh against his own. Sense of power and planning settling well within him, Hannibal knew he would be the one to feed that addiction.  
  
“You’re beautiful.” Hannibal purred, his accents catching rough and low in his throat. He delighted in its effect upon Will, the man beneath him trembling from his words alone.  
  
Moving his hands to Will’s belt and past the gathering of fabric there, Hannibal found himself all too eager to reveal the hips he’d been feeling up and guiding before.   
  
“You keep so much hidden under clothing that hangs far too loosely from your delicate frame.” Hannibal murmured, kissing the sharp dip in Will’s hips. It made the empath shudder with a whimper as the skin there was touched with teeth and lips. Pants and underwear were taken off in one go, the clothing falling on the floor to join the discarded shirt. “Truly, Will, you are too lovely.”   
  
“You make me sound like a girl, Hannibal. This isn’t my first time. You don’t need to woo me like a virgin.” Will scoffed, threading his fingers through lengths of ashen locks. He was ignored, Hannibal far too busy peppering Will’s hips and the lower planes of his stomach with kisses. The curvature of hips and how they connected to other parts of Will‘s body were further explored, their sharp contours traced with the flat of a tongue and point of canine. All the attention dragged a shuttering moan from the profiler, causing his fingers to curl and his nails to dig into Hannibal’s scalp.   
  
Greedy for more, Will lifted his hips in search of further contact as skilled hands mapped out the flesh there through touch. In mercurial answer, his legs were lifted and parted, Hannibal settling himself in between them with an ease Will did not feel, especially when those adventurous lips brushed along sensitive inner flesh. Soft inhalations told Will that he was being scented there, his musk sampled from its source.   
  
“You are misunderstanding my words, Will. It is not my intention to feed you compliments for the sake of your own ego. I am merely stating truths I wish you to take into some consideration.” Hannibal said, before clamping down his teeth. Will cried out as a mouth captured the flesh there, biting down hard enough to leave a purpling mark.  
  
“You bit me.” Will said in astonishment, pulling himself out of his daze to lean up on his elbows. He found Hannibal on his knees, well between his own, crouching over him like he was being claimed. A flood of heat raced to Will’s groin as he met those bloody eyes once more, losing himself to the raw emotions that blazed within them. The lust and desire Will found in those eyes threatened to ruin him. That bite, Will realized belated, would be the first of many. It was a thought he found more arousing than alarming. The action of being marked and owned was a tell-tale sign of possessive behavior that one should best avoid in a relationship. To Will though, it was proof of being wanted.  
  
“You liked it.” Hannibal easily countered, lowering his head to bury his nose in dark pubic curls. Softly biting down on the sensitive mound there, Hannibal didn’t miss the way Will’s cock  twitched when his teeth  pinched the skin, or the pearlescent bead of precum that formed on its head to trail down Will‘s length.   
  
Arching his back with a moan, Will let himself fall back onto the bed, spreading himself out wider to encourage further attention from the mouth that teased him. “I’m not a masochist,” he gasped softly as lips found their way to other areas of delicate skin to suck there, making Will fight not to thrash and buck on the mattress.  
  
Satisfied with the light purpling he left on Will‘s skin, a sight meant for only him to see, Hannibal began kissing his way up the curve of Will’s hip to the flat planes of his stomach. As he ascended up the empath‘s body, Hannibal captured a nipple between his teeth, hardening the pink flesh to a nub with a roll of his tongue around its tip. In response, lithe legs slid up Hannibal’s still clothed sides, wrapping around the older man’s hips to pull him tight against Will’s nakedness  
  
“You’re still dressed.” Will complained, catching Hannibal’s shoulder to push the rich fabric of his suit off and onto the ground with the rest. “Strip.”  
  
Unable to hold back a smile at his empath’s needy demand, Hannibal pulled free of Will’s grasp to carefully remove every article of his outfit with painfully slow movements, watching the effect it had on Will from his peripheral.   
  
Propping himself on his elbows, Will watched the show through half lidded eyes, dark and focused. He wanted to touch himself, pleasure the swollen flesh that lay between his legs. His length curved up to lay up against his stomach, Will was so hard. He kept his hands where they were though, flat against the mattress and keeping himself held up. Some part of Will knew that Hannibal would punish him if he tried to start anything without him.   
  
As more tanned skin was revealed, Will found himself appreciating the view. Hannibal was surprisingly fit, with well-toned muscles and shapely limbs underneath all those many fine layers. No one could ever know by looking at him what Hannibal was hiding beneath brushed wool and silk. The sizable cock bobbing heavily between his legs certainly held Will’s attention upon its reveal, another wave of excitement making his own twitch with the thoughts of what Hannibal would be doing with that dick and where all too soon.   
  
“Do you have a condom?” Will ventured. His cheeks colored as he glanced up to find that he was being watched back, his voyeurism having not gone unnoticed.  
  
“I do not.” Hannibal lied, getting the bottle of lubricant he had purchased earlier that day, the one that he’d bought just for this occasion. Moving onto the bed, Hannibal grabbed hold of Will to pull him to the middle of it with him. “Do I need one? I assure you, I am clean.”   
  
“No, no. I don’t have anything either. I just thought you wouldn’t want the mess.”  Will swallowed hard, trying not to think about Hannibal, in him, thrusting into him without any degree of separation between them.   
  
“I don’t mind the mess made by sex, but if you would prefer I can always go buy some before we begin.” Hannibal offered though he had no intention of doing so as he leaned forward to capture Will in a kiss. Slender arms snaking around his neck proved his point, Will pulling the killer in closer to press flush against his heated flesh.   
  
“No, it’s fine.” Will said as he pushed Hannibal onto his back, taking the bottle of lubricant from him to straddle his lap.   
  
“Do you know what you’re doing?” Hannibal asked with a slight smile, his blood tinged eyes following the movements of Will’s nimble fingers. They squeezed a generous amount of lube onto each digit, coating his hand thoroughly before trailing it down between his legs. When Will pushed a finger inside himself, Hannibal took a sharp breath, watching the penetration with wide eyes. Will truly was a gift.   
  
“Yes.” came the shaky reply, a pink tongue darting out to moisten too dry lips as Will moved the single finger inside his passage to add a second. Spreading his fingers wide and fast enough to make his hips squirm, Will let his lips fall open, little breathy moans escaping from him.  Knowing that he was prepping himself too fast and too hard, Hannibal allowed himself to take those swaying hips, steadying the empath as Will continued to finger himself open.  They both found control hard to manage when a third finger found its way inside, making Will jerk his slender hips. It was obvious that Will had discovered his sweet spot all on his own, a source of pleasure that Hannibal desperately wanted to find for himself.    
  
“Are you experienced with other men?” Hannibal ventured, keeping his eyes on the display before him as he freed up his hands to squeeze lube into his palm, slicking his erection while Will was otherwise distracted. He vowed to kill and eat anyone Will dared to name.  
  
“No.” Will barely managed the words, fanning out four fingers to stretch himself completely. “But I’ve watched enough porn to know what I’m doing.” Because when you suffered from empathy the way Will did, watching and experiencing were both sides of same coin.  
  
A hand tugging his own from his body made Will open his eyes, his fingers made to leave his sodden heat. Exhaling raggedly, Will looked at the man beneath him, unsure of where he should be placing his hands while actually mounting the other male.   
  
“I never would have guessed.” Hannibal said as he took Will’s hips in hand to help guide the man down onto his swollen sex. Will’s hands settled on Hannibal’s shoulders,  steadying himself as he felt the bulbous head push up against his entrance. Biting his lip against the sensation, Will focused on the unique feeling of Hannibal’s heavy sex pushing into him, adding an odd pressure in his body. Hannibal‘s girth stretched him further than his fingers had. It was more than he had imagined, filling him so completely as he sunk down to take Hannibal all the way to the root. Stilling there as he bottomed out, Will let his body adjusted to the width and length nestled deep within him.   
  
“A-are you experienced?” Will stammered. He needed the distraction of conversation to force his contracting muscles to relax around his partner, already eager to continue.  
  
Feeling the same sense of eagerness, Hannibal shifted beneath him, the slight movement enough to stir the empath into a gentle rocking motion atop him. “I seldom share myself with others, but I am experienced with both men and women.” He admitted, directing Will’s movements as much as he had in the kitchen, the light guidance of his hands making the empath move himself up and down on his shaft in a slow yet steady riding motion. The rhythm caused Will’s breath to hitch and shudder as he tried to find a perfect pace, gliding up and down that thick cock to greedily press its mushroom tip into his prostate again and again.  
  
“At least one of us knows what they’re-” Will moaned, that particular thought cut short as he fell back when Hannibal abruptly snapped his hips upward to make Will jerk in place. Lifting the empath off enough until only the tip of his shaft remained within him, Hannibal snapped his hips again, forcing a pleasure filled cry to part from Will’s lips.   
  
The veil of lust was a beautiful covering for his William to wear, his skin flushed with arousal, his blue grey eyes blown to black and large with lust, and his soft lips parted with the ragged little gasps that tore open their seam with the heady scent of sex  all about them.  It was a moment Hannibal wanted to burn into the walls of his memory palace like a mural, but more than that, it was one he wanted to experience again and share with no other. Will was his and his alone. The world had had its chance for another more innocent to claim the empath, but in the end, Will had been led to Hannibal. After this night, Will would never know the touch of anyone other than him again.  
  
Burying himself deep enough to drag another cry from Will, Hannibal wrapped an arm behind lean hips and another around heaving shoulders before rolling Will onto his back with his cock still buried deep inside. Adapting to the new position quickly, Will wrapped his legs around his waist, locking his ankles at the small of his back.   
  
“Hannibal.” Will moaned his name like a mantra, the word sounding out with each back arching thrust as Hannibal laid claim to his throat, pounding into the empath as he sucking and bit his mark into the sensitive flesh of his neck.  
  
Lost in a haze, Will knew he was close when Hannibal bit him again, just on the cusp of his orgasm when too sharp teeth pierced his skin, drawing beads of blood to pool along his clavicle. A well placed thrust made contact with his pleasure directly as a broad tongue swept over the coppery drops, sending Will plummeting over the edge.    
  
Crying out, Will’s mind reeled with a pleasure that made words unintelligible as the sounds left his lips. He was being consumed. In the grip of his bliss, Will clawed Hannibal’s back, leaving long bloody grooves down its length while giving praise to Hannibal and whatever god was listening.   
  
With his lover’s pleasure sated, Hannibal focused on his own release, his thrusts taking on a slower but more forceful pace as he found a new rhythm, one that kept Will tightly clinging to his shoulders while pressure built thick and low in his loins. Spilling his seed deep within Will so that the man could feel the warmth pool inside him, Hannibal came with Will‘s name sounding from his lips.   
  
Sated as last, Hannibal gently removed himself from his lover, enjoying the slight sound of protest Will made as a new sensation of emptiness filled him where Hannibal’s cock had been. Taking advantage of Will’s inexperience, Hannibal quickly positioned them so that Will was made the little spoon against him, and trapped within a tangle of sweaty limbs.  
  
“You should sleep.” Hannibal murmured into dark curls, sampling the intoxicating scents of Will and sex mingling together.  
  
“I have work in the morning.” Will said without any real protest behind the words, far too comfortable to even consider moving. Especially when Hannibal pulled a thick duvet over them and wrapped his body tightly around Will’s own, the cover soft against his skin and Hannibal’s warmth quite welcome on his own.   
  
“I had hoped you might spend the night.” Hannibal admitted in a quiet soothing tone, though he wasn’t sure if Will was still awake enough to hear him say it, the quiet breathing of the empath somewhere between drifting and slumber. “With how late our lesson extended last night, I took the liberty of bringing a few select articles of clothing with me. You shouldn’t have any problem going to work in the morning.”  
  
As Will’s response was to roll over in his arms and bury his face in Hannibal’s neck, the doctor accepted the response as confirmation of him staying the night. With that, Hannibal closed his eyes to find his own reprieve, feeling very well pleased.   
  
OoOoO  
  
The morning came too quickly for Will who fought for a few more moments of sleep against the inevitable awareness that was brought on with waking. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d slept through the night. Will certainly couldn’t remember a time of waking up dry, and would be even hard pressed to recall a morning without having a heavy dose of fear in his belly, the unease left behind by some half-forgotten nightmare. But he was none of those things, and even more oddly, he was being roused by the melodic notes of an accented voice and the smell of rich coffee.  
  
Slowly opening his eyes, Will suddenly remembered where he was, what he’d done, and why he was naked. Groggy blue eyes searched for the caffeine, finding the source of it like a treasure on a breakfast tray placed near the bed. It was accompanied by an interesting looking bagel filled with capers, dill cream cheese, and lox; to its side was a blood orange sliced to look like a blossoming flower.   
  
“Thank you.” Will managed to say civilly, considering he was still reaching for the coffee. Food could wait. Clothing too. “You didn’t have to do this.”  
  
Sitting up to let the sheets pool in his lap, Will pulled the convenient tray into his lap, sampling the perfectly brewed coffee first before further examining the bagel and its contents.  Will wouldn’t be surprised to find out that Hannibal smoked the salmon himself.  
  
“I wanted to.” Hannibal smiled, already dressed for the day in a suit save for the jacket. Will assumed it was somewhere near the kitchen where Hannibal had been preparing his breakfast, neatly folded over the back of a chair. “I also have a surprise for you.”  
  
After their night and now being served breakfast in bed, Will couldn’t begin to imagine what Hannibal’s surprise could possibly be. “You didn’t have to do that either.” he said around a mouth full of smoked salmon and cream cheese, suddenly feeling guilty. Will watched as Hannibal disappeared into a space that Will thought at first was a closet until Hannibal strode into it to completely disappear.   
  
Curious, Will got out of bed, carefully setting his tray aside. After wrapping a sheet around his hips because his clothing from last night seemed to be just gone, Will peeked in. He was mildly horrified to learn that the space was indeed a closet, easily the size of a bedroom. Meticulously neat, it was filled from wall to wall with suits, clothing, and accessories of all shapes, shades, and sizes. To say none the least, there was an impressive amount of plaid material in the confines of that room. His host reappeared soon enough with a change of Will’s clothing folded over an arm as well as several boxes bearing expensive label names under the other.  
  
“You’ll forgive me, but this is something else I wanted to do.” Hannibal said, walking back over to the bed to lay out a familiar looking plaid shirt and khakis across the foot of it. Recognizing his own clothing and trying not to think about the implications of Hannibal taking them from his home, Will noted that the fabric had obviously been taken in. That Hannibal had taken it upon himself to have his oversized clothing tailored to better fit him. The boxes were laid beside the outfit for him to open upon finishing his breakfast, giving Will a momentary cause for alarm. Trying not to think too much about it, Will quickly finished his breakfast and washed up, not wanting to make a mess of Hannibal’s bed. The boxes were still there when he got back from the bathroom, Hannibal obviously waiting for him to open them. Tapping down panic, Will opened the gifts.  
  
“Thank you, Hannibal, but you really didn’t have to do this.” Will said. He was touched by the gesture, but unsure of how to respond to it, what would be appropriate now between them. His treacherous mind was also working overtime to find some catch to all this goodness that had been finding him these last few days. Will was not well versed with kindness, and life just didn’t give him nice things.  
  
“You do not have to wear anything if you do not like it.” Hannibal said, moving up behind Will as the man continued to stare down at the contents. “But I wanted to get you something nice.”   
  
The ‘something nice’ was a fine cream colored turtleneck made of soft woven wool that looked fitted. In another box, there was a charcoal suit jacket and matching pants that Will knew, even without trying on, would fit perfectly to his form where his suit from last night had not.  
  
“This is too much Hannibal…” Will started to protest until a light touch made contact with his back stalled out the rest of his words, Hannibal‘s fingers lingering over his bare skin to trail down it. The sudden thought of this all going to ruin because of him being unable to get along with another human being planted a new seed of fear deep within Will. He liked what was happening between them, even if he couldn’t define it.  
  
“If you like the clothing, it would mean a great deal to me for you to keep them, though I will return everything if that is what you wish.” Hannibal said softly, drinking in Will’s hesitation like it were fine wine, savoring the way Will tensed and relaxed in turn under his fingertips. Will’s resistance in this matter was token as best. Hannibal could tell by the way Will’s eyes lingered over the clothing that he liked the gift. Now it was only a matter of making him accept it. Touching a hand to the chain of bruises on the man’s throat to remind Will who owned him, Hannibal grazed the back of Will’s neck with his lips, placing dry kisses to his curly hairline. He knew Will would be unfamiliar with receiving such an expensive gift, perhaps even gifts in general having grown up dirt poor. If he could ease that discomfort, Hannibal knew it would only be a matter of time before Will would come to expect gifts, and not find discomfort in them.   
  
“No…it’s nice. I’ll keep it.” Will nodded, though he refused to face Hannibal to do so. Keeping his head down, Will made his choice, quickly disappearing into the bathroom with his selection. With no one there to witness it, Hannibal let himself grin down at the profiler’s traditional wear, the clothing abandoned in favor of something new.  
  
OoOoO  
  
“Well someone had fun last night.” Zeller grinned from his station as Will entered the room. He was in too good a mood to be bothered by the friendly teasing as he walked past his coworkers to examine the body.   
  
“Only friends?” Price mused, keeping his eyes on his work as he joined in the hazing.  
  
“You look really happy today, Will,” Katz said as she joined them to give Will more than just an appraising look at the new clothing. She only managed to look away when Zeller opened the fridge and slid out the latest body, the unusual corpse deserving their full attention. “Whatever you and Hannibal cooked last night must have been pretty special.”   
  
“I think everyone looks good when they’re wearing the freshly fucked look.” Zeller tried again to get a rise from the special investigator, coming to stand next to Will and the body.   
  
“Hey, you okay?” Zeller arched a brow at Will when he didn‘t react, as in at all. The expression on his face was terribly blank, the kind of void look that told others about cannibals and people losing parts of themselves to other people. “ Something wrong with the body?”  
  
Head filled to its brim with white noise, Will tried not to see the body that he was looking at. Jack had grabbed him while between lectures to take a look at the latest corpse to grace their table, one that he said was a little older than the ones they usually dug up when it came to the Ripper. He was positive though that this body was one of the infamous serial killer’s victims, which meant he wanted Will to take a look. Now that he was, Will couldn’t help but think about meat. A very distinct cut of what would be tenderloin missing from the body. The kind of cut that would be porcini dusted and served with a Bing cherry burgundy sauce.  
  
Life really didn’t give Will good things.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is technically the end of the story, however anyone familiar with our individual works knows that DarkmoonSigel likes to give closure while I like to leave you all guessing; so who wants a bonus chapter?
> 
> Your kudo’s don’t give a fuck and wonder into Hannibal’s closet to play dress up with expensive clothes, your comments want to know what the hell is gonna happen next and convince the authors to write the final chapter while jumping on the bed.

**Author's Note:**

> Your kudo's cut themselves on onion knifes and run around screaming, your comments get drunk and laugh at your kudo's pain.


End file.
